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Democracy 



BY 

EDWARD MEYERS 



Adventures of a Former Agent 

of the 

Kaiser's Secret Service 
who was Lured 

by the 

LIGHT of LIBERTY 



50 cents 




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FROM 

AUTOCRACY 

TO 

DEMOCRACY 






Adventures of a Former Agent 




of the 


K a i s e r's 


Secret Service 


who 


was Lured 




by the 


LIGHT 


of LIBERTY 



BY 

EDWARD MEYERS 






COPYRIGHT, 1919 



©Ci.A525878 



HIM ! ^v I, 



CONTENTS 



A Foreword 

Chapter 1 
War declared; I escape from South Africa to Elngland. 

Chapter 2 
Experiences in London and Flight to Holland. 

Chapter 3 
Off to Fight for Germciny. 

Chapter 4 
In the first line trenches. 

Chapter 5 
Disabled and back to Germany. 

Chapter 6 
Going to Holland in the Imperial Secret Service. 

Chapter 7 
Under suspicion of bemg pro-Ally and sent back to Ger- 
many. 

Chapter 8 
My Desertion from the Prussian Army into Holland. 

Chapter 9 
Safe at last in England. 

Chapter 10 
On my way to America I discover the One Woman. 

Chapter 11 
More Trouble in New York. 

Chapter 12 
Itemed at Fort Oglethorpe for Investigation, but Freed by 
a Juet Govemment. 



A FOREWORD 

While Germany is still threatening to balk at the terms of 
peace as laid down by the Allies there is just one man in the 
United States who did active work in the secret service of the 
Imperial Government and who fought in the first line trenches 
for the Fatherland. How he m^ade his way from South Africa 
to England, thence to Holland, and finally 'to the battlefront 
to fight for the Kaiser makes many a chapter of thrilling adven- 
ture. He was a son of autocracy at the start of the story, which 
develops on the following pages, but he ended loyal to democ- 
racy. In his stirring career he found the one woman he loved 
and married her — a Briton. He matched his wits against the 
vaunted system of German military thoroughness and won, 
escaping from the Fatherland. His mind had revolted against 
the spirit of Prussianism, and he rendered valuable aid to the 
Allies, but this did not prevent his being incarcerated in the 
detention camp at Fort Oglethorpe, a victim of circumstances, 
which makes an interesting climax to one of the war's most 
unique experiences. 



War Declared; I Escape from South Africa 
to England 

FROM my earliest days the boys at school had christened me 
"The Adventurer." Through my college course this nick- 
name stuck to me and there must have been something omin- 
ous in it, for as life turned out I ran the gamut of excitement and 
had experiences that are not often crowded into one's existence. 

When I was a youth of 1 9, just a year out of college, a year 
I spent in the study of chemistry, some relatives of our family 
who lived in South Africa came to visit us at Koenigsberg, 
Prussia. The stories I heard of that country from a cousin 
filled me with a desire to go there and seek adventure. My 
father tried to dissuade me, but I would not listen to emy argu- 
ment. My mind was made up and eventually I started for that 
land. 

My natural thought when I arrived at Cape Town was to 
turn my knowledge of chemistry to use and I started my career 
in South Africa selling patent medicines in Johannesburg, 
Transvaal. From one thing to another I drifted and after 
several years of doing this and that I picked up secret service 
work for a large fire insurance company. William Hoskens, 
M.P., a very well known and influential man in mining circles 
and a progressive leader in South Africa, gave me my start. 
My first job was the investigation of an arson case in which 
$20,000 were involved. I managed to save this for the com- 
pany, of which Mr. Hoskens was the general manager. In 
South Africa at that time it was well known that 90 fires out 
of 100 had their origin at the hands of a firebug. My first 
assignment interested me a lot and in me the lust to do detective 
work was born. I was at this time about 22 years old. 

After coming out victor I was the terror of the Reef Road, 



along the Main Reef to the east and west side of Johannesburg. 
All the gold and coal mines were in this region. Most of the 
shopkeepers were Russian Jews who had concessions in the 
different mines. The police worked hand in glove with me and 
through this connection I came into close touch with the Govern- 
ment officials. 

Little did I dream then that the training and experience I 
was getting would be some day turned to the advantage of the 
Kaiser and that I would be one of his secret service agents. 

Every year or so it was my custom to make extended trips 
to England, France and Germany. My last voyage to Europe 
was made at the beginning of 1914 and late in June I left 
Hamburg for the return to South Africa aboard the S.S. 
"Admiral" of the Woermann Line. We arrived at Durban 
at the end of July, the gala season, when the elite of the 
Transvaal came down to the coast to spend the cold months, 
for at that season it is winter in South Africa. I had been 
there only a few days when word was flashed throughout the 
world that a member of the Austrian royal family had been 
assassinated and through this incident friendly relations between 
the countries of Europe were at the point of being ruptured. 

Everything pointed to war. Germany, Austria and France 
were ready at a moment's notice to spring at each others' 
throats. If war started I was determined to get back to Ger- 
many at all hazards and fight for my native land. Soon a 
call came from the German consulate for all native-born Ger- 
mans of military age to report for registration. It was an 
exciting day for us, a Sunday morning, the first week in August. 
War was now on between Russia and Germany, but England 
was still neutral. I went to the consul and reported. I pro- 
duced my military passport and lost no time in making prep- 
arations to return to Germany. Passage was booked for me 
for England en route to Germany aboard the S.S. "Borda," a 
P. and O. liner, which had arrived from Australia. We 
embarked at eight in the morning, but the ship did not leave 
until noon. As we left Durban Bay th enews was spread that 
England had declared war on Germany. 

This had been suspected for some time and I had a secret 

8 



understanding with G)nsul Speir, the German attache, that 
should England decide to make war against Germany while 
I was at sea I should try to fight my way to Germany, making 
use of my experience as a private detective to help me on my 
way. I was confident that I could make good. 

There were a large number of the Kaiser's subjects aboard 
the vessel, bound for Germany. When the captain received 
information that the two countries were hostile he ordered all 
Germans to be seated at special tables so that there would be 
no trouble. I immediately made up my mind not to mingle 
with the Germans and remained among the Australians and 
others of the allied nations. 

A steward came to me and asked, *'Are you not a German?" 

"No," I answered, "I am a South African." 

"But you are booked by the German consulate," he re- 
torted. 

That was true, but I explained that the reason for this was 
that I had agreed to go as an interpreter for the Germans 
aboard in payment for my passage to England. I was left 
among the Australians and South Africans and was not obliged 
to sit with the Germans. I was one of the first to give three 
cheers for King George. This was done when we were only 
an hour out of Ehirban. All the Britons were enthusiastic; 
the Germans solemn and downhearted. They feared that 
they were going to be interned at the next port. 

During the voyage from Durban to Cape Town there was 
a spell of solemnity over the vessel. The Germans kept to 
themselves. They were permitted to mingle with the Britons 
on the promenade deck but few of them availed themselves of 
the opportunity. They kept pretty close to their cabins. The 
Germans appeared downcast at the idea of becoming prisoners 
of war for the duration of hostilities, but there was an under- 
current of confidence that in the end the Fatherland would 
prevail. They were outnumbered aboard ship ten to one and 
there was nothing for them to do but accept their fate with 
the best possible grace. All was quiet and serene on the way to 



Cape Town and we arrived there on a Saturday morning 36 
hours after Elngland's declaration of war. 

At Cape Town we saw ten soldiers, with war equipment, 
their bayonets gleaming in the brilliant sun of a South African 
noon. They were in field uniform, ready to go to German 
East or West Africa and they were waiting like watchdogs 
to seize any German who might be on the "Borda.** They 
had been already apprised that there were German reservists 
on the ship, going back to join the colors and they had orders 
to make them prisoners of war. 

I stood at the rail of the steamer awaiting the signal to go 
ashore. I still remained in the company of the colonials when 
the Germans were ordered to go to the dining-room. Most of 
the tourists were keen to take a trip about Cape Town. They 
were eager to see the Table Mountains and as I had been 
around that part of the country a lot and knew every inch of 
interest, I volunteered to act as guide. I was one of the first 
to leave the ship as she docked. 

The soldiers and the immigration officials boarded the ship 
and they went to the dining-room to take charge of the Ger- 
mans and while they were domg this we went ashore and 
started on our sightseeing trip. 

The "Borda" was to leave on Sunday morning. I took my 
new found friends for several hours around the Table Moun- 
tains and explained that I had to see some business friends, and 
they went back to the ship. The person I went to see was 
Teddy Roscoe, a South African by birth and district n^anager 
of the African Life Insurance Company. He was an 
old friend of mine and I felt confident that I could tell him 
of the trouble I was in. I explained to him the chances I 
was taking to get to Europe. 

When I pictured my situation to Ted he agreed to put his 
car at my disposal, and I motored down to the German em- 
bassy. I told the consul the difficulties I was in and that I 
would probably be the only German who would start for Eng- 
land. He asked me if I wanted any financial assistance. I 
told him no ; that I was well equipped to get to England. He 

10 



assured me that if I needed any assistance to go to a person 
whose address he gave me in London. This man was a per- 
son well up in the financial world and he would have done 
anything for me as a German. However, I never had to go 
to him. as things turned out. The German Consul wished me 
luck and admired my pluck in trying to break through the 
British lines. He bade me farewell late in the afternoon. I 
had to leave on the quiet. I could not be seen with the Consul, 
for that would have attracted suspicion and I would have been 
interned with the rest. I went down to Roscoe*s house and 
met Mrs. Roscoe, and we had supper and went to a theatre. 
As we finished around midnight, I was wondering whether I 
would have another party like this for some time to come. I 
did not know whether I was ever going to get to the end of 
my journey successfully. Our little group drifted back to the 
docks in the solemn silence of midnight. 

The entrance to the docks was guarded by British Customs 
officials. We had gone about 200 yards in the car when we 
saw two men walking along with handbags. These were 
German reserve officers. I recognized one of them as an 
acting private secretary to the German consul in Durban whom 
I had met in my dealings with him. I pulled up my car and 
asked him what had happened to all the Germans in Cape 
Town. He told me that all had been taken off the steamer 
and had been interned. He added that the authorities would 
not believe stories he and his friend told that they were South 
Africans, and that they had been ordered off the steamer. 

He then handed me a letter, asking me to mail it in London. 
He told me the contents was an order for munitions for Ger- 
man troops in West Africa. The letter was addressed to an 
Italian firm in Cardiff. I took his letter and he bade me fare- 
well and wished me luck. Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe and myself 
journeyed on to the ship. They stayed with me to the last 
moment, coming into the dining-room with me. Before enter- 
ing the steamship, I handed Mr. Roscoe my military passports 
and other documents I carried with me, telling him that i|i 

II 



case I was interned to tear all my papers into a thousand 
pieces and throw them away. 

Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe then went with me. I saw my lug- 
gage guarded by two soldiers. It was on a table in the 
dining-room. I asked Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe to take a seat 
while I would go to my cabin. On my arrival in there I found 
it lighted, but empty. The place had been stripped. This 
did not put any fear into me. I had suspected that such a 
thing would take place. I called immediately on the chief 
steward and demanded to know why my belongings had been 
taken out of my cabin. 

He laughed, and said, "You are a German, and you arc 
going to be interned in Cape Town." I said, "What do you 
mean? I'm a German? Well, if I'm German and you call 
me that you must be one of those thick-headed Austrians who 
are being led around like the parish bull with a ring in his nose." 

He sneered a sort of a mean leer at me. There was all 
the pent-up expression of hate in his look. He despised me, 
I, knew. He did not believe my story that I was a South 
African. He told me that anything I said was futile; I must 
go before the captain. This was an hour after midnight when 
most of the passengers had turned in. 

I demanded that I should be brought up to see the captain. 
I found him in his cabin, seated with the agent of the P. and O. 
line, both of them enjoying a whiskey and soda. I demanded 
to know why my luggage should have been taken out of my 
cabin. I claimed that I was a native of South Africa and that 
I had been simply acting as an interpreter for the Germans who 
were aboard the ship. I told him that at the time I had taken 
this position England was not at war and that if I had been 
aware that hostilities were to start between the two countries 
I would never have mingled with the Germans. I was forced 
to make this statement to make the officials believe that I was 
pro-Ally. At this time I had determined to be faithful to my 
country. I was going to answer the call to the colors. It was 
my own land; my native country and I was going to fight my 
way to Germany at any cost. 

I did not really believe in what Germany stood for; but 

12 



deep down in my heart there was the sentiment which Walter 
Scott expressed so many years ago — 

"Breathes there a man with soul so dead; 
Who never to himself hath said: 
'This is my own, my native land'?" 

Today I have changed my opinions, and why not? Any 
person with intelligence may do that. I was brought up in the 
atmosphere of militarism. As a boy I saw all the machina- 
tions of the German army. I never longed for it, however. 
I had the spirit to roam. I wanted to get away out into the 
world. I wanted to be an adventurer; I wanted to be an 
explorer in the world; foreign lands called me. I longed to 
be a soldier of fortune ; I was willing to wage my wits against 
others, and I think I did, if you will look over what happened 
on the "Borda.'* 

Up in the cabin the captain asked me to give him some evi- 
dence that I was all right. Teddy Roscoe and his wife, who 
were seated down below waiting for me, were called on and 
he testified. His position as head of the African Life Assur- 
ance Company gave him weight enough to clear me. He told 
that he had known me for fourteen years and he vouched for 
the fact that I was a native of South Africa. Furthermore, I 
had papers from the chiefs of police of various towns in the 
Transvaal which showed the sort of work I had been doing 
and they were all in my favor. The captain was convinced 
that I was all that I represented myself and he gave orders to 
the chief steward that my cabin should be given back to nie. 
and my luggage was returned and after spending an hour with 
my friends, the Roscoes, during which time the captain re- 
turned my papers, I went to my bunk and to sleep, dream- 
ing of what was going to happen, perhaps, in the next few 
days of what might be a most eventful voyage for me. 

I was not a coward. I did not fear death. I wanted to 
be in the war. I hoped to be in the thick of things. In those 
days my idea was to fight for Germany. The battlefield lured 
me. I sought the great adventure. The one thing I hated 
and the thing that some times made me shiver and crmge away 
in my cabin was the thought that some day I might be dis- 

13 



covered, taken o£F the ship and interned in a camp somewhere 
in England or in France to spend my days with nothing to do 
but think, and I used to wonder what these thoughts would 
be. Perhaps bitter; surely not sweet. 



II. 
Experiences in London and Flight to Holland 

IT was six o'clock the following morning when we started, a 
Sunday morning. We were then on our way to England, 
more than a fortnight we were to be on the water. Aboard 
the ship there were lots of young Australians who were on 
their way to spend a holiday in England. They were of the 
military age and little did they realize that their holiday would 
be spent on the battlefields of Flanders. We were two days 
on the ocean when a sport committee was appointed. They 
elected me secretary. Between other passengers aboard we 
had an Australian pastor who was always in close touch with 
the captain, chief engineer and wireless officer. 

The parson was an innocent sort of a person and he and I 
struck up a friendship. He was in close touch with the wireless 
man and every morning he used to go up and get the positions 
of the British cruisers and the German raiders. He would 
come down and tell me and I made note of this in my diary. 
The ship was taking a new course, something that was devised 
to baffle any German ship that might be out looking for prey. 
I had access to the maps which told the latitude and longitude 
of the course the vessel was steaming and I took careful note 
of this. Eventually when I czune into a German port this in- 
formation was of great value to the Kaiser's government. 

We were just two days away from Las Palmas, Canary 
Islands, where we expected to take on coal, when a vyrir^ess 
was received that the * 'Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse.** one of 
the biggest of the German transatlantic fleet, was in the vicinity 
with a load of German reservists who were going to West 
Africa to help out in the situation there. It was reported that 
the big ship had been sinking n^any merchantmen on its way. 
but we were assured that we were well protected by the British 

15 



fleet. All had been gay aboard ship since we left Durban. 
Gayety now turned to very sombre and sobre thoughts. Every 
one was on the qui vive, wondering if a German raider was to 
be encountered. We were steaming along in a placid ocecin 
in the middle of the night, looking up at the myriad stars in 
the heavens, and thinking of those back home who were waitmg 
for us. We always travelled in darkness. Everythmg was 
black aboard ship. Suddenly a searchlight was thrown on us 
with its quivery, silvery sheen. Most of the passengers were 
trembling. They thought sure it was one of the German raiders. 
It proved, however, to be H. M. S. "Queensland," one of 
Great Britain's ocean patrols. A boarding crew came over 
the side and examined our papers and when it was found that 
the ship was a Briton it was announced that the "Borda," 
captain, crew and passengers, could go on their way in perfect 
safety. 

On the next morning we were called down to the dining- 
room to receive the latest news and the captain informed us 
that the **Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse" had been sunk by 
H. M. S. "Highflyer" off the African coast. Enthusiasm 
was rife aboard ship. Cheers were given freely and there was 
no one who shouted more loudly than I. It was necessary. 
I had to play my part. I must not be discovered. 

When we heard that the "Highflyer" had taken one of the 
first victims of the war, one of the earliest pieces of retribution 
that was to come to the Kaiser's forces, all aboard ship were 
happy and as we sailed along the seas we were not in fear of 
the submarine menace. We were all confident that Great 
Britain's boast that she was the dominant force in the seven 
seas was making good. Sports went on as usual and no one 
gave a thought to a German menace. We came on to Brest 
and there we were met by a fleet of French warships. They 
were the outposts, the watchdogs which guarded the entrance 
to the British channel. When we saw them there were more 
cheers, an added lot of confidence. All aboard were sure 
that England and the allied countries held the winning hand. 

As we moved up to Brest, a boarding crew from the French 
fleet came over the side to inspect the ship. I felt a bit nervous 

16 



then. I wondered if they would suspect me. Several of the 
crew who were of German or Austrian birth were marked for 
detention, but they were not taken off until the vessel reached 
London. As we proceeded there was one remarkable sight 
which no one who was on that voyage can forget. As iai ^s 
the eye could reach you could see Ejiglish patrol vessels. The 
British Navy was doing its job in a thorough manner and down 
into the horizon you could see the smoke from the busy stacks 
of the little watchdogs of the sea. 

The passengers as they promenaded the decks, watching the 
shadowy shores of France, were making dates to meet in Pica- 
dilly. They felt confident that it was only a matter of a little 
time before they would be strolling around the Strand and 
seeing London. 

When we came up to Tilbury, England, an Elnglish patrol 
vessel met us, and the deck officer shouted through a mega- 
phone that all on board who were not British must line up for 
inspection. It mattered not whethe, they were of the allied 
nations or not. I shuddered a bit then. I was afraid that 
after all my previous luck in gettii'g past the various officials 
I was going to be captured. There were eight of us who were 
obliged to leave the ship. There were Hollanders and other 
neutrals among the eight. We were taken aboard a tug boat 
and sent ashore at Tilbury. The rest of the party proceeded 
to London, and afterwards I found out why this happened. 
It was because the Thames was a mine field and the British 
Admiralty had issued orders that no foreigner, no matter who 
he v/as, should be allowed to see what preparations had been 
made to deend the British capitol. 

None of us knew what was going to happen as we disem- 
barked. We were all in a quandary. For an hour we waited 
and finally were dispatched on a train to London. We all felt 
a bit squeamish. I had visions of an incarceration in a deten- 
tion camp. The suspense was rather bad for the nerves. Every- 
thing went well, though, and when we arrived in London, I 
took a taxi and motored over from the St. Paul's station to the 
Bedford Hotel, where I had stopped only three months before. 

It was a Sunday morning when I arrived in London, gloomy 

17 



and quiet. I was more lonesome than I had been in a long 
time. I sat planning how I would get to Rotterdam, for I 
knew that from there I could get into Germany. I had 
one friend who had been in the British army, Harold 
Irvine. I figured that I could use him as an instrument in get- 
ting a clean bill of health to clear out of Great Britain. I 
had seen placards all over the city to the effect that any one 
who harbored an enemy alien would be liable to a fine or 
imprisonment. He was my very good friend and I did not 
think that he would betray me. I made an appointment to 
meet him Monday morning. He had applied for a commis- 
sion in the army and considered his country's fate far above 
that of a friend. 

I arrived at his office at eleven o'clock. I was asked to 
wait a bit in an ante room. I sat there about twenty minutes 
when the door opened and two huge chaps came in. I imme- 
diately recognized them as secret service men. True was my 
surmise, for I discovered in a short, time that they were from 
Scotland Yard. Irvine, whom I considered my best friend, 
had thrown friendship into the discard. Loyalty to his coun- 
try prevailed and he had turned me over to the British author- 
ities. 

"Wie gehts," said one of the men; but I was too old a 
bird to be caught with chaff. I said: "I speak English; don't 
you?" Irvine had not figured that I could have been any- 
where in the last three months but in Berlin. They questioned 
me as to where I had been and when I told them that I had 
just arrived from South Africa they smiled a bit, and appeared 
very dubious. I showed them, however, the stub of my ticket 
on the "Borda." 

Even then they were suspicious and called up the office of 
the P. and O. line to find out if there had been a passenger 
by the name of Edward Meyers on the trip from Durban. 
They were assured of this. Still they were curious. They 
wanted to know what I was doing in England at this time and 
why I wanted to go to Holland. 

There was a battle of wits. I was matching mine against 
theirs, and I felt that I was going to be the winner. I told 

18 



them that my sister had been recently married and that I had 
received a letter telling me that she was going to live in Rotter- 
dam. I was to find her address when I reached Rotterdam. 
Things were not so strict in those days. War was only a 
month old and you could get by with things then that would 
never pass muster as conditions grew more serious. 

I was a bit surprised that they left me off so leniently. I 
found out later, though, why it was. They were to keep me 
under observation. They knew that I had been a detective and 
had been working in secret service and they could not figure 
my mission being anything else than that of an operative in 
the espionage service of Germany. I told them I was a Rus- 
sian. Perhaps- they believed it; perhaps they didn't. At 
any rate I seemed to convince them that I was honest and not 
inimical to Britain. 

For years I had been experienced in the Secret Service. I 
knew the ins and outs of the profession and I could not help 
but chuckle inwardly when I saw the methods of those two 
Scotland Yard men. They searched me for papers that might 
convict me. They even made me take my trousers down. All 
the time there was safely esconsed inside the puttees of my 
Scotch riding suit my German military passport. When they 
got as far as the leggings, they quit. They were convinced 
that I had nothing on my person that Wcis not right. I had pre- 
pared my pockets before I left Cape Town. I suspected that 
I might get into hot water somewhere en route and was going 
to be prepared. I played the game of bluff and it won. 



19 



in. 

Off to Fight for Germany 

THE Scotland Yard men went back to Irvine and told him 
that there was nothing against me. They stated that I 
had just come from South Africa, something that he had 
not believed. He was somewhat remorseful to think that he 
had put me under suspicion. He apologized profusely and 
asked me to have a dinner party with him that night to square 
matters. I told him I would meet him at eight o*colck. I 
knew, though, that he would never see me then. There was 
a ship leaving for Holland from the port of Tilbury that eve- 
ning and if I was to get out of England I had to be aboard 
at six o'clock in the evening. 

Irvine who owned a big racing stable in Durban and who 
knew that I was always interested in this sport was sure that 
he could draw me out by asking questions about turf conditions 
in Durban. There was no sentiment to him. I told him just 
what horses of his had been successful. I mentioned the results 
of the big July meet in Durban and chatted of the old friends 
that were common to both of us in the days before the war in 
South Africa. Eventually he saw his mistake. He realized 
then that I had not come from Berlin, but that I had been in 
South Africa. I left him at noon prepared to start on the 
big adventure. I often wonder what he thought as he waited 
for me at the Trocadero. I've never seen him since. 

It was a case of "Now or Never." I was going to get to 
Holland and from there to Germany. I was seeking the great 
adventure and up to date I had been a winner and I had high 
hopes that I was going to be a winner in the end. 

I had told the detectives that I was going over to Holland 
and was to return to fight in the British army to cover myself. 
Once more I was forced to think fast. I took a taxi down 

20 



to Oxford Street to the office of Thomas Cook's tourist agency. 
I asked for a return ticket from Rotterdam, because I wanted 
to make my story to the Scotland Yard men plausible. I 
knew I would not come back and I was glad enough to pay 
the extra money. I was asked if I was an Englishman and of 
course I said yes. I motored back to the hotel and the girl 
clerk seemed to take a very friendly interest in me. She asked 
me all sorts of questions about what I was going to do in Lon- 
don. Her interest in me was rather odd. I knew better than 
ever then that I was under observation. I told her that I was 
going to my room and that I did not want to be disturbed until 
SIX o'clock in the evening. By that time I hoped to be on my 
way to Holland. I had to catch a train at four to reach 
Tilbury in time for the sailing at six. 

Evidently there was a lot of interest in me. I seemed to be 
appreciated a whole lot. When I got up to my room I found 
a maid busy cleaning the windows in spite of the fact that 
I had been there only a short time. She was very affable and 
just a trifle over friendly. I was assured once more that I was 
being watched. I dismissed her. telling her that I wanted to 
take a nap. I lit a cigarette so I would not fall asleep and 
listened intently. I could hear her footsteps on the soft carpet 
outside the room. I packed my grip with the necessary things 
for my proposed flight to Holland. I then walked down the 
servahts' staircase and went into the office. I told the clerk 
that I was to keep an engagement in Cardiff and that I would 
be back in a day or so. 

She said, "Wait just a minute, please." 

I answered, "I have no time; I must catch my train." 

I then went out into the street and hailed a taxicab. As I 
entered it I noticed two men on the sidewalk watching me and 
evidently taking down the number. I was sure that they were 
secret service operatives. I did not know London particularly 
well, but there was one section with which I was familiar. We 
drove down to Oxford Street, where I dismissed the cab and 
took another one that was passing by. Once again I figured 
that I was on my way to a winning hand. Holland was still 



in sight and then after that I knew where I was going to 
stand. 

All the while I had my watch synchronized to the railroad 
time. Everything was measured up to the last minute. I 
arrived at the St. Paul station about ten minutes before the 
departure of the train. I did not want to incur any annoying 
investigation, so after giving my luggage to a porter, I crossed 
the street and went to a popular bar where there are many 
charming maids serving drinks, and chaffed and chatted with 
one of them until there were only about two minutes left before 
the train would pull out for Tilbury. In the hurly-burly of 
the getaway I saw a man who looked as if he might be one 
of the secret service. There was little time left for formalities. 
He came up hurriedly to me and said, "Are you English?** I 
answered him, "Sure thing,'* and he passed me on. Probably 
my old Scotch riding suit helped a lot. It always had been 
lucky for me and to this day I consider it a fetish. 

Going down to Tilbury, a two hours' ride from London, 1 
was seated in a compartment with one woman and five men. 
The woman had a decidedly Teutonic cast of countenance. 
She looked me over keenly. I was watching her, too. When 
we got off the train to take the little lugger that was to bring 
us aboard the "Batavia IV" we were forced to pass in single 
file through an entrance to the gangway. The Germanic looking 
woman asked me if I would carry a grip that she had. I 
did not want to be unchivalrous, but I suspected that she was 
working for the Kaiser and I was not foolish enough to be 
caught with any suspicious luggage. I was forced to refuse 
her request and an obliging young Hollander helped her out. 
Later on she was one of the party that was refused a trip to 
Rotterdam. 

Aboard the lugger, out in the Thames, there was added 
worry. The officials called up to the officer of the deck "78 pas- 
sengers.** They were all checked up. All of the tourists were 
asked to explain why they were travelling and no one could get 
through unless he had a very specific reason for going. Gov- 
ernment service or pressing family affairs were the necessary 
items. My Teutonic acquaintance who wanted me to carry 

22 



her grip had a Swiss passport, but it did not help her. She 
was one of the few left behind. 

"All passports must be shown," was shouted. The 78 of 
us were ushered unto the cabin and at the end of a long table 
there sat a burly big Hollander, an immigration agent, and at 
his right hand was a British secret service man. I figured that 
if I lingered along to the end of the line I might be suspected, 
so I went up with a good show of assurance and was fourth to 
be queried. 

"Where is your passport?" the immigration officer asked. 
"Passport? Why, I haven't any," I replied. "And why 
not," he asked. 

"I have come from South Africa 2md there was no question 
of passports when I left there," I retorted. 

"Oh, so you are from South Africa," the husky Hollander 
queried. "From what part, may I ask?" 

"Pretoria," was my reply. "You don't say! Perhaps 
you know something of that city?" 

He asked me where I lived there and I told him on Church 
Street right near where Oom Paul had his residence. He 
queried me further, but I knew Pretoria well and when I men- 
tioned the fact that the French Consulate was opposite Oom 
Paul's house he was convinced that I was a native of South 
Africa and insisted that I should be allowed to proceed on my 
way, passports or no passports. I spoke to him in the dialect of 
the Transvaal and when I did this he was convinced that I had 
been telling the truth. 

Thus I was on my way. I had slipped through more than 
one trap and was on the high road to what was my ideal. 
Maybe it was not right; but I felt it was and I was going to 
go through with it no matter what happened. 



23 



IV. 
In the First Line Trenches 

A FEW minutes later we were aboard the Holland liner, 
**Batavia IV." No further questions were asked. We 
simply showed our tickets and were ushered to our re- 
spective cabins. We lost no time in getting clear of Tilbury. 
There were aboard ship a rather strange collection of passengers, 
including several refugees who had escaped right from the 
jaws of the German army of the Crown Prince which was 
then making its grand rush on Paris. Many exciting tales 
were exchanged as we sat at the dinner table. There was a 
spirit of uneasiness as we swept along through the Channel. 
No one went to sleep that night. I felt somewhat reassured, 
however, for it was the first time since I had left South Africa 
that I was on neutral ground. As we proceeded on our way 
in the night, a remarkably clear moonlit one, we saw a con- 
stant illumination of the sky and the water by hundreds of 
searchilghts from the patrol vessels. We were hailed many 
times by the British scouts, each time the question being, "Are 
there any Germans aboard?" When a negative reply was 
made we were allowed to continue and each moment I began 
to breathe more freely. 

In the morning when I went to pay the steward my account 
for the cafe and smoking room we got chatting and when he 
learned that I had come from South Africa he told me the 
captain was the commander of the vessel which had carried 
Paul Krueger's body back to his native land for burial. I 
received an introduction to him and he invited me to join him 
in a drink. He said he was pleased to meet me and we had 
an interesting chat over South Africa. He had absolutely no 
suspicion of who I really was. At half past nine in the morn- 
ing we docked in Rotterdam. 

24 



Immigration officials once more boarded the vessel and de- 
manded to see the passports of the passengers. I felt at ease 
then, for I was in a neutral country and all the time I had my 
German military passport inside of one of my leggings. I 
waited until all the passengers with whom I had been chatting 
the night before had disembarked. I then showed my creden- 
tials to the chief immigration officer. He smiled, congratulated 
me for getting through, and wished me luck for the rest of my 
journey. 

I took a taxicab, and still wearing my Scotch riding suit, I 
made straight for the German embassy. In the office the con- 
sul's secretary, being suspicious that I was an Englishman, 
because of my clothing, asked me what my business was. I 
replied to him in German that I was a native of Germany, 
come from South Africa, and that I desired to join my flag. 
He was still somewhat doubtful. 

I told him that I had information of a very important nature 
which I wished to divulge to the consul in person. I produced 
my passport cind after the secretary conferred with him in 
his private quarters I was admitted to his presence. 

When he heard me he ordered me to proceed by the first 
train for Wesel, the nearest fortress town to the Dutch frontier. 
I told him, though, that I had been under a rather severe mental 
strain for several days and that I had not had much sleep. I 
asked permission to stay in Rotterdam, so that I might be 
freshened up by a good night's rest. This he granted me, 
telling me to depart on the train which left at six in the morning 
for the frontier. 

Only a short distance away all the grimness of stern war 
was raging, but Rotterdam was still gay and unaffected to all 
outward appearances. This, I realized, was to be my last 
day as my own commander; the final chance to enjoy myself 
in civilian clothes. I was now under military orders with leave 
for only a few short hours. Instead of going to bed I went 
out and saw all the sights of the night life of the Dutch city. 
I had one grand, final, jollification and returned to the hotel 
at five in the morning. I took a bath, shaved and was on the 
train bound for Germany and the big adventure at six o'clock. 

25 



Evidently the German consul at Rotterdam had commu- 
nicated with German military authorities at the frontier, for I 
was met as we crossed into my native land by two representa- 
tives of the German Imperial headquarters, a branch of Wil- 
helrastrasse. They took me o^ the train at the little border 
town of Emmerich and escorted me to a waiting automobile 
and we drove on to Wesel. They realized that I had infor- 
mation that would very likely be of considerable value to the 
Fatherland. 

I was received by Ober Lieutenant von Hahnke who was 
in command of the branch office of the German headquarters 
in Wesel. Von Hahnke was a relative of General von Hahnke, 
a close friend of the German Emperor. He interrogated me 
at length and I gave him the details of my trip from South 
Africa down to the most minute incidents which might prove 
of use to the German cause. He asked me to make out a 
written report of what I had seen; of the warships and where 
their approvximate stations were ; what I had seen in London as 
regarded advertising; what the papers were saying and what 
was the general morale and condition of the British people. I 
made a very complete repMjrt from the notes which I had made 
on the voyage £uid which I had secreted in my boots. 

He asked me what my intentions were and whether I would 
like to continue in secret service work and go back to England 
or what my preference would be. He evidently admired what 
I had gone through and the information I divulged, for I was 
granted permission to have my wishes considered. I told him 
that having escaped with my life by more than one close shave 
I did not care to go back to England. I told him that I had 
made the dangerous voyage so that I might get into the actual 
fighting. I was eager for excitement and my dearest wish would 
be granted if I were attached to the regiment which was fur- 
thest advanced into France; I wanted to get into the first line 
trenches and see action as quickly as possible. 

"Well,'* he laughed, **the regiment that is nearest Paris, the 
Fifty-seventh Prussian Infantry, is stationed in Wesel, and I 
will reconmiend that you be attached to it in a day or two, pro- 
vided you are successful in passing a physical examination." 

26 



He ordered me then to take up my quarters with Captain 
Klarmayer, who was the station commandant of Wesel. Little 
did I realize that here, among my own countrymen, I was under 
greater suspicion than I had been in England. In spite of my 
military passport and the report that I had made, the author- 
ities in Wesel were not yet convinced that I was not in the serv- 
ice of Great Britain. 

I could feel that I was being watched closely from the time I 
reported. I was asked for the addresses of my relatives. I 
gave as a reference my brother, an advocate in the Prussian 
High Courts in Koenigsberg, my birthplace. It was not until 
a detailed description had been received from my brother that 
the veil of suspicion was lifted. For the two days that I spent 
at the home of Captain Klarmayer I never once was alone. 
Always some member of the household would accompany me 
on my trips about, and always I could see a soldier lurking 
nearby. Even when I went into the shops to make purchases 
of cigarettes and other incidentals I would see a gray-clad figure 
in close proximity. 

The thoroughness of German military methods were demon- 
strated in the actions of the Wesel ofl&cials. Ober Lieutenant 
von Hahnke admitted after my identification had been fully 
established through my brother's description of me that I had 
been under observation. He said no chances were being taken 
of having a spy in the ranks. So, on the morning of my third 
day m Wesel I was despatched to the headquarters of the 
Fifty-seventh for physical examination and von Hahnke gave 
me a letter of recommendation to the commander of the com- 
pany to which I would be detailed. 

The letter explained my desire to get into quick action and 
in return for the information I had given to the Germans it 
was recommended that I be permitted to leave on the first 
possible troop train for France. The period pf training for the 
raw recruits Wcis an average of eight weeks, but I was given 
special instruction and my training was hurried along so fast 
that in four weeks I had absorbed the necessary knowledge and 
was put on a train for the battlefront, being one of four hun- 

21 



dred who were going up as relief for those who had been in 
action for some time. 

The scene, as we left, W2is as if we were going on a holi- 
day instead of to the stern and grim realities of war. It was 
all new to us. We could not reahze what was in front of us. 
All the inhabitants of the town turned out to cheer us on our 
way. We were a jolly lot, skylarking and singing as we 
waved farewell to the people of Wesel. As we proceeded 
through Cologne we were singing. The people along the route 
seemed cheerful. We still were. 

What a change there was, though, when we came into Bel- 
gium. For the first time, then it dawned on us, that we were 
not on a pleasure jaunt. As we got our first glimpse of that 
ravaged and devastated country, as if a command had been 
given, a sudden hush fell over the train. New thoughts were 
born within this group that only a few short hours ago had been 
boisterously cheerful. We were getting our first ideas what 
autocracy was doing to destroy happiness. 

All along the route we saw little villages which only a short 
while before had been the homes of happy, simple-minded folk. 
These were blotted out. Tiny houses were smashed and tum- 
bled down in scarred and twisted wreckage. Stations were 
crumbled about as if by the hand of some cruel giant who had 
wantonly destroyed and revelled in his destruction. We came 
into Louvain at mid-day. The troop trains were travelling 
very slowly. Some times for hours we were held up. At night 
everything was in pitch darkness. Louvain was a nightmare. 
What horrible sights greeted the eye all about! This once 
beautiful city was a mass of tangled, jumbled-up ruins. There 
were no more smiles; there was little talk but there was lots 
of nervousness and serious thinking. There was a tone of 
tensity pervading the four hundred. Actual war conditions 
were being impressed forcibly on us. Everyone realized that 
we were not on our way to an afternoon tea or for a holiday 
journey into a strange country. 



28 



Disabled and back to Germany 

IT was pitiable to see the poor little Belgian children and 
old folks coming up to us as we stopped, trying to sell fruits 

and wines. Orders had been given to purchase nothing as 
the Belgians had poisoned the food and drink. Most of us 
longed for a stimulant to arouse our depressed spirits and 
we stealthily smuggled wine purchased from the villagers along 
the way aboard the train. We discovered that nothing had 
been poisoned. Our journey seemed endless. Time after time 
we were ordered to halt and take cover in the open fields nearby 
to baffle any lurking air raiders. All along the route to the 
front we saw the old men of the Landsturm who were guarding 
the rails, lonesome and forgotten. They were a good deal 
better off than we were going to be. There was nothing for 
them to do except eat and sleep. In those days Germany was 
rich in food and they received many parcels of delicacies. 
Their tours of duty were not arduous but very monotonous. 

Silence, oppressive and sombre, hung over the country like 
a mourning pall. The only exciting moments were when we 
heard the whir of an enemy airplane and the signal came to 
make for the fields. We arrived at our destination, Don, 
forty-eight hours after leaving Wesel and there we had the 
first sight of the enemy. 

This was a group of 1 00 British prisoners who were being 
led into this little town by a group of Krefeld Hussars. It 
was a cold day in October and the Britons had nothing with 
them but their trench clothes. They wore woolen caps. As 
they passed through a line of Gerrpan soldiers one rough fellow 
stole a cap from an unfortunate Briton. This aroused my ire 
and I remonstrated with die Landsturmer for his heartlessness 
and WEinton act. It was poor sportsmanship, to say the least. 
In spite of the fact that I was a German and going to fight 

29 



against the British and the French I had seen a lot of the 
world and the palpable unfairness of the petty performance 
aroused my indignation. 

This burly German who was evidently uneducated and of 
the low class called me a damn fool and gave me a lecture. 
"Wait till you get to the front/' he said. "Possibly you will 
have different ideas if you ever get back again.*' This little 
incident rankled in my bosom. As the two of us were arguing 
the order came to fall in. 

We were destined for Aubers, where we were to act cis 
relief troops for the Fifty-seventh. After a march of an hour 
and a half we came to a field where there was a huge hay- 
stack. This was the point where we were to meet the regi- 
mental officer who was to take command of us in place of the 
transpwrt officer. 

While we were at Don we could hear the distant rumble of 
battle. We were now within range of the French artillery. 
It was here that we were to receive our baptism of fire. You 
would not think it possible to have any humorous thoughts 
under the conditions. 

Presently the officer came up riding on horseback and sig- 
nalling with his riding crop, he ordered the men to fall in. Just 
as he did a shrapnel shell burst not more than fifty yards away 
from the band of soldiers. What happened then was to me 
very funny. The sight of a bursting shell was no novelty to 
me, for I had been in Lisbon during the revolution when King 
Manuel was deposed and I had experienced the sensation of 
being under fire. 

When the shell burst the recruits scurried about in ludicrous 
fashion, like a lot of frightened rats and in a moment not one 
of them was to be seen. The officer stormed at the men as 
only a Prussian leader can. He might just as Well have been 
talking to so many mummies. I stood up and watched the 
shell burst and the officer. "Cowards,** he shouted. "Assem- 
ble, assemble,** but there was no assembling by this panic- 
stricken group. Finally he managed to get the men into some 
semblance of order and off they went on their way to the 

30 



mysterious zone of battle. It was not long before the soldiers 
paid for their show of cowardice 

We were not due for our billets in the trenches until the 
next morning, but the officer was so enraged that we were 
hurried up without a bit of delay, or without the night*8 rest 
that was due us. That evening we were sent to our respective 
stations and were in the trenches at nine o'clock. 

I showed the letter I had from Ober Lieutenant von Hahnke, 
of the Wesel headquarters, to Major Wilfing, the battalion 
commander, cind when he read it he took me in front of my 
comrades in arms and told them of how I had come all the way 
from South Africa, incurring many dangers, to fight for the 
Fatherlcind. He seemed greatly pleased and put me up as an 
example to the rest. 

Just before we left for the trenches a call was made for 
volunteers to perform a dangerous patrol in No Man's Land. 
I shouted out "Here" and this further pleased the commander. 
With three others I was ordered to leave the trench at mid- 
night, to seek information about the barbed wire barriers of the 
enemy. 

War was coming to us now with great suddenness. There 
was heavy firing on both sides no sooner than we were at our 
stations. One incident that struck me as a bit funny and which 
is worthy of relating here to show how some act in their first 
. time under fire was staged with my neighbor as the actor. He 
was a little chap, the son of a farmer. He was nearly scared 
to death as the whizz of the bullets sang their song of death 
over the trenches. We had to keep our heads just above the 
top, so that we could see the sights of our rifles. The bullets 
were zipping uncomfortably close to us. Wilhelm kept his 
head down and was popping away at the inky sky. The com- 
pany commander saw him wasting all this good lead and 
ordered him to get right up on top with his whole body ex- 
posed to the British fire. This strenuous treatment had a salu- 
tary effect on Wilhelm. It knocked some of the cowardice 
out of him and he developed into a cool fighter after this in- 
cident. 

31 



At midnight we went out on our patrol, worming our way 
over No Man's Land until we encountered the barbed wire. 
Then we crawled back, carefully measuring the distcmce be- 
tween this barrier and our trenches. Pleased with the report 
of the patrol the commander made me company's courier the 
aext morning. We were in the trenches in 24-hour shifts. 
There were plenty of potatoes in France at that time and we 
used to roast them at night. There was enough food to keep 
us in good condition. There were no storm attacks. Neither 
side advanced. Most of the firing was done at night. All 
the time we were living in suspense. We had made the trenches 
very comfortable and home-like. There Were chairs and 
stoves and beds which were the loot from the deserted homes. 
There were even some antiques to brighten up the trenches. 
Aubers was a well-to-do community and in the Germam trenches 
might be found silk-covered hair mattresses. War did not seem 
to be such a serious proposition after all. So far it was not, 
but it was a difFerent thing later on. We remained about a 
month at Aubers, when we were ordered to the adjoining 
trench which was near the Pietre Mill. There had been few 
casualties. Only the foolhardy who would take a chance in 
going over the top of the trenches to save time in getting to 
the field kitchens were potted by random shots what the Ger- 
mans called "blindgaenger." 

When we arrived at the Pietre trench it was early in Decem- 
ber. Snow had fallen and it was bitterly cold. Between the 
hostile trenches all was wrapped in a coverlet of white. Half- 
way between the two trenches we could see through field-glasses 
the body of a dead soldier. Orders were given by the battalion 
commander to find out at any cost just what troops were facing 
us. I volunteered to make the trip to get the information. 

The commander asked me how I expected to do it. I ex- 
plained that if I were given a couple of white sheets and a rope 
painted white I thought I could make my way over the snow 
without being discovered by the enemy. These were furnished 
and in the night which was fairly bright from the light 
of the half moon I wriggled inch by inch over the snow until 
I was able to attach the rope to the legs of the body and thus 
we were able to drag it back stealthily to our trenches. When 

32 



the body was searched the pay-book of the dead soldier was 
in the pocket of his coat and then we knew just what troops 
were opposed to us. A squad of four was detailed to dig a 
grave behind the German trenches and the unfortunate lad was 
buried there. 

Up to this time my health had never failed me. I caught 
a cold on this patrol and had a slight attack of rheumatism. 
The battalion to which I was attached was ordered to proceed 
to La Bassee, but I was obliged to stay behind for five days at 
a field hospital. Incoming wounded soldiers told of how the 
big push on La Bassee was to be launched on December 22. 
There was only an interval of 24 hours before this important 
move. I asked the doctor in charge for permission to join my 
regiment, for I was feehng all right. This was granted. I 
reached La Bassee on the afternoon of December 2L I was 
eager to see a big attack. In the La Bassee trenches we were 
up to our necks in water and our clothing seemed to weigh 
as much as our bodies. My legs and arms began to swell up 
and I could hardly move. I saw what I had come all the way 
from South Africa to see. As courier it was not part of my 
duty to join in an attack. I was stationed right beside the 
company commander and as fate had it he was the first one 
to be killed in our sector, being struck by one of the "hat shots." 
Our company numbered 300 as it went into action. By the 
next morning there were more than 200 casualties. I was 
helped by some of the shghtly wounded to get back to the rear. 
I could hardly walk. All now had a graphic close-up view of 
the horrible gruesomeness of this futile business of war. It was 
weird and harrowing to watch the wounded making their way 
through the communication trenches to the rear. The bodies 
of the men were encased in mud that had frozen to the uni- 
forms. If one tried to escape the icy water in the trenches 
communicating with the rear he had to go out in the open and 
faced the possibility of being picked off by a sharpshooter. 
Many took the chance, however. It surely was a case of 
being between the devil and the deep sea. I managed, in 
spite of my pain to make my way through the water in imminent, 
danger of being drowned if I stumbled. I used my rifle as 

33 



a crutch on one side and was assisted by another member of 
our company on the other. I was placed in one of those single 
French carts with one horse. I could not move and for a time 
I thought I was going right back into the British lines. This 
horse was a native of the country and he apparently did not 
like his German surroundings, so he took it into his head to 
make a dash for his allies* lines. He ran away, breaking the 
harness and leaping out of the shafts. There I was left 
stranded in the road, while the horse was making a mad dash 
for the British position. I was helpless and if the harness had 
held he might have taken me a prisoner over to the enemy. I 
was in such a mood then, though, that I did not much care 
what happened to me. All afternoon I lay on the road until 
this rattle-brained Prussian came back with another car and 
took me to the first-aid hospital at La Bassee. My body was 
so swollen that my frozen clothing had to be cut from me. I was 
kept at this station for 24 hours, when I was transferred to 
Marquilles. This was the Field Lazarette of the Seventh 
Army Corps. Here I lay a month, unable to move arms or 
legs, and had to be fed Hke a helpless baby. I was then 
passed back to Don, the transferring station for the Krieg's 
Lazarette at Douai. For 24 hours I was lying at Don waiting 
for the train, with a high fever and helpless. My neighbor 
on the adjoining stretcher was an English Tommy with a bullet 
through his right arm. He was in great agony, but he bright- 
ened up when I addressed him in English and presented him 
with some cigarettes. He complained of ill-treatment by the 
soldiers so far, but it made him feel a little better to have an 
opportunity to converse in his native tongue once more. We 
chatted of places in his home country that were familiar to 
both of us. I explained to him that I had lived fourteen years 
in the Transvaal and that this was no personal fight of mine. 
I told him that I loved the English, but that I was compelled 
to fight for Germany, for after all it was my native land, and 
I was doing the same thing for my country that he was doing 
for his. 

His train left before mine and we shook hands, wishing each 
other a quick recovery and good luck. He was on his way to 
Germany and a short time after I was bound for Douai. At 

34 



the latter place I had my first sight of a woman nurse. Pre- 
viously the incapacitated were taken care of by soldiers of the 
sanitary division. For three weeks I was practically motionless 
and was eventually forced to subsist on liquid food because my 
jaws had swollen up. I was then despatched to Nurnberg by 
a hospital train where I was placed in a lazarette at Ludwigs- 
feld. The winter was nearly over before I was able to limp 
about with the aid of crutches. I was advised by the doctor 
in charge of my case to go back to my regiment at Wesel and 
make application for my discharge, as I would never be able 
to go back into active service. When I reached Wesel I 
found that Hauptman Klarmayer was still in command of the 
station. He told me that my battalion had been transferred 
to Emmerich, half an hour distant from the Dutch border. No 
train was to leave for four hours, so I took advcintage of the 
opportunity to visit headquarters to look up my old acquednt- 
ance, Von Hahnke. I met one of his aides who was there in 
the days when I first reached Wesel. He told me that Von 
Hahnke had been promoted to captaincy in the Prussian Guards 
and that he had fallen in battle in Flanders. Captain-Lieu- 
tenant Freyer, a naval officer, was now in command and I was 
given a note of introduction to him by the aide. 

I explained to him about how I had come to Wesel originally 
and of the letter that the consul at Rotterdam had despatched 
to Von Hahnke. He expressed sorrow for my condition and 
told me to go back to Emmerich to recuperate. I arrived 
there on a Sunday and every one was out enjoying himselL 
One of my first experiences of ingratitude came when the 
thanks I received for my siege at the front wsts three days* 
detention under guard for overstaying leave for one hour. This 
was one of the seeds of disgust with German militarism which 
was sowed in my bosom, a seed which was destined to ho AUgr 
meaated by many rocsDe m tJie neixt few montiis. 

For the first time in many we^s I wiis beginnings to feel 
cJmost like a human bemg a^ain. The hospital at finmerich 
was in charge of Catholic sisters and the attentions, received 
there could not have been better. All the patients were treated 
with the utmost consideration and kindness and everyone had 
the best of food. To add insult to injury the heartless com- 

35 



mandant had me transferred to the war hospital at Wesel, where 
he was also in charge smd where the food and treatment were 
of a very bad nature. 

My feelings were now rapidly undergoing a change. Like 
most others who had been born in Germany I was saturated 
with the spirit of autocracy from my. earliest recollections. 
Things were changing in my mind now. I was swiftly realiz- 
ing the unfairness, the injustice of the Prussian mode of thought. 
Here was I, who had dared to come all the way from South 
Africa and who had baffled the British and had furnished 
valuable information to the Germcins, treated as if I were an 
enemy. At Emmerich there was a junior officer, Sholten, who 
was a subordinate to Dr. Grassman, who was in charge of the 
hospitals at Emmerich and Wesel. Sholten was coarse in 
nature, a brute. He had the heart of a flunkey, although he 
was a man of education and lived in refined surroundings m 
peace-times. He was one of those cowardly creatures, though, 
who feared to go to the front and through his connections he 
was able to receive an appointment where he would not be 
in danger. 

When I was sent to Wesel Dr. Grassman issued orders 
that my food should be restricted. This made me furious after 
all I had done, but it was nothing to what Grassman did to the 
prisoners of war who had incurred his displeasure. 

At Wesel hospital the sick French and British prisoners were 
allowed to walk in the beautiful gardens which surrounded the 
hospital. I was confined for three days to my room and on my 
first trip out I encountered a British captain and lieutenant. The 
captain was badly wounded in the arm and the lieutenant had 
both of his legs off and was walking with the aid of artificial 
limbs. I noticed that wherever they went there was always a 
soldier a couple of feet behind them, although they were in a 
helpless condition. I was curious and asked the guard in 
German what the reason was for guarding them so closely. 

He told me that the lieutenant had tried to explain in Eng- 
lish to Grassman, who could not understand that he needed 
sohie new clothing. The captain smiled when Grassman failed 

36 



to understand and for this piece of lese majeste the pompous 
Prussian issued cin order that the two unhappy Britons be 
placed in sohtary confinement for fourteen days with nothing 
but bread and water to sustciin them, except on one day a 
week, when they were given a meal. Grzissman considered 
that his dignity had been insulted cind he made the helpless 
Britons pay for a harmless smile. I learned this all when I 
held a clandestine conversation with the two of them with the 
permission of the guard, for they were not allowed to speak to 
any one. 

The Britons were pleased when I spoke to them in their 
native tongue. I asked them if I could do anything for them 
and then they told me that they would dearly like to have a 
whiff at a cigarette or a pipe. This I furnished them. They 
had been cooped up for eight days in "solitary" before they 
were even allowed the privilege of taking a bit of fresh air. 
I could not see the justice of such a proceeding. Grassman 
was just one of the type of German which has made the 
world hate Prussianism. He wcisn't a fighter, either, and I 
was bitter to think that such a person could be in a position 
where he was able to make those suffer whom he should have 
been treating with every kindness if he had really had the 
instincts of a human heart. I was taking a chance, myself, 
of being confined once more for speaking to the Britons. I 
cared little, however. I was sincerely sorry for them. After 
a short chat I returned to my room and it was not long before 
I witnessed cinother scene that made my blood boil, and oh, 
how I wished I were in a position to do something of benefit. 

A hospital transport train had just arrived and aboard it 
were four score, either wounded or prisoners, to be transferred 
to the internment camp at Friedrichsfeld. There was just one 
Briton in the lot. All the rest were French, with the exception 
of an ugly-looking black Morrocan, one of the French colonial 
troops. 

The sergecuit-major in charge of the arrangements gave an 
order" that cigarettes might be served to the prisoners. I 
noticed, though, that the lonesome Briton was not included. 
I being the only German there who could speak English was 

37 



allowecl to interrogate the Englishman. The sergeant-major 
made him lit in the same wheelchair with the black man, while 
all the others were sent away. This poor lad had been badly 
wounded in both legs. He told me that he had been in nearly 
civery hospital in France and Belgium for six months and was 
just about recovering. I could feel tears almost coming to my 
eyes when I realized the brutality of the action of that sergeant- 
major in depriving this helpless chap of the small comfort of a 
smoke and furthermore humbling him by forcing him to be the 
companion of the Morrocan. He was a nice, clean-cut boy, 
evidently of a good family, and in the eyes of the Germans 
this was a good joke on him, to make him the partner of the 
black man. 

The sergeant-major insisted that the English were the ones 
who brought the colored men into the war and that they were 
equals. I tried to explain to him that this man was a French 
colonial. He sneered at me. This was the time when the 
slogan of the Germans was **Gott Strafe England.'* As all 
but the two were led away the soldiers jeered and laughed at 
the plight of the unfortunate Briton. It tickled their low sense 
of humor. It was a contemptible piece of business. Such a 
petty thing was not going to help Germany. What did the 
"strafing** of one man mean in a war of millions? 

Incidents like this were making me grow more bitter every 
day. Hatred of Prussian militarism was growing apace. That 
first seed which was cast into my soul in the hospital at Em- 
merich was beginning to ripen and it was eventually to bear a 
poisonous crop for Germany. 

Whatever became of this ill-assorted pair I don't know. 
The last I saw of them they were to be sent to another hos- 
pital not far from the big lazarette where we were quartered. 
My last sight of them was watching the negro puffing con- 
tentedly at a cigarette while the poor white lad was forced to 
sit idly by in the wheelchair. Perhaps the echoes of *'Gott 
Strafe England'* were ringing in his ears and I could not 
rhelp but think that maybe running around in his brain were 
the words, **God damn Germany.'* 

Bitter thoughts were adding up fast. My heart was sore. 

38 



Germany, my native land, was rapidly fading out of my life. 
The thought of those three days' imprisonment for an offense 
that should have been condoned because it was done inno- 
cently, filled my soul with hatred for the system of the Kaiser. 
Every moment I was growing stronger and stronger in my 
determination to cast off forever the yoke of Prussianism. I 
was fully determined now thatj just as soon as I could find 
my way clear I would go to Holland and remain in that 
neutral country for the duration of the war, providing nothing 
else turned up to change my plans. 

My chance to get out of the clutches of Grassman who 
could vent his animus agciinst me by keeping me for months in 
the hospital if he so desired came sooner than I expected. I 
was lying in my bed, day dreaming, thinking back to my happy 
days with the English in the Transvaal and assuring myself 
more and more that I had no fight with them. I was wonder- 
ing if I had been right in coming back to do battle against 
them. They had been my friends and I was now regretting 
that I was an enemy of theirs. As I was in a half doze, the 
door of my room opened and an orderly from the office of 
Captain-Lieutenant Freyer entered with a message. 

For the first time in many a day my spirits rose when I 
saw the letter with the seal of the Imperial Headquarters 
stamped on it. I felt then that at last I was on the way to be 
a free agent and to get away from that hateful hospital with 
that petty tyrant, Grsissman, the moulder of my destiny. The 
letter was from Captain-Lieutenant Freyer and he asked me 
if I wanted to take a commission to go to Rjotterdam in the 
intelligence department of the Imperial government. I could 
hardly restrain my emotions. I knew now that I was on my 
way to freedom. 

Autocracy was to be put behind me now; democracy was 
before me. 

I immediately gave a favorable reply. Grassman, still of a 
viperous nature, was trying to balk me. His vicious soul 
called for revenge. He, though, was the one who was balked. 
I was obliged to undergo an examination and one of the under- 
doctors who looked me over pronounced me well enough to 

39 



undertake the journey. I was still a bit weak and in pain, 
walking on crutches, but at any cost I was determined to get 
across the border into Holland. Grassman did not want to 
let me go, but the orders of Freyer were more important tlian 
anything he could say or do and reluctantly he allowed me to 
visit Freyer at headquarters. 

I felt then that I held the winning hand. German Imperial 
Headquarters' orders superseded all others. So I went over 
to Freyer's office guarded by a sergeant, this still showing the 
animosity of Grassman. I was granted a private interview with 
Freyer and he told me that I could go to Holland immediately, 
and that all I would have to do would be to use my knowledge 
of languages in Rotterdam and that I would not have to do 
any outdoor work until my condition improved, if it ever 
would. I lost no time in accepting the proposition and the 
following day I received my discharge from the hospital with 
the papers which gave me permission to go to Emmerich, where 
my battalion was now stationed. 

I was obliged to go back to my company to report before 
I could get regimental leave. I was happy to be once more 
in civilian clothes. I had my old Scotch riding-suit with me 
which I had always considered lucky. As I reported to the 
sergeant-major at Emmerich he demanded to know why I was 
not in thet, field uniform. He would not listen to me when 
I told him that I had been given permission from headquarters 
to change and ordered me back into the gray which had become 
so distasteful to me. 

This state of affairs lasted only six hours, however, for I 
lost no time in getting into communication v^th Freyer's office 
at Wesel and I was permitted to change back into the garb 
of a civilian. 

On reporting to my superior officer I was told that I had 
to serve three days' imprisonment. Grassman again. He 
was still trying to use his venom against me. I insisted that I 
was not in physical condition to do this. I was sent to one 
of the doctors and as fate decreed my examiner was the doctor 
who had examined me on my arrival from South Africa. He 

40 



appeared glad to see that I had returned safely from the front. 
I explained to him how the spiteful nature of Grassman was 
responsible for my predicament. He was fair enough to agree 
with me that I was in no condition to do my three days' im- 
prisonment. Then I returned to my battalion commander and 
was given a release. With this I returned to Wesel and was 
permitted to journey on to Holland. 



41 



VI. 

Going to Holland in the Imperial 
Secret Service 

WITH my credentials from my battalion commander I 
hastened to Wesel and reported to Captain-Lieutenant 
Freyer. The following morning he took me to the 
police commandant of the town with special instructions to be 
given a passport as a newspaper correspondent for Rotterdam. 
I was given a generous expense account from the government 
and at noon I left Wesel for Rotterdam. I was not sorry 
to leave. My instructions were to report to Captain Vollardt 
at Rotterdam, who was in charge of the German espionage 
service in Holland. 

That evening when I arrived in Rotterdam I took an apart- 
ment at the Hotel Commons and telephoned to Captain Vol- 
lardt over a private wire, the number of which had been given 
to me by Freyer before I left Wesel. I was instructed to 
report at nine o'clock the following morning to start my work 
in the espionage work. 

Promptness is one of the essentials of the Prussian life. I 
was on time as I rode up into the Claacs de Vrieslam, the 
smart residential district of Rotterdam. I rode a couple of 
squares beyond the house that I knew was my destination and 
then walked back. I was taken a bit by surprise when a 
little girl of about twelve years walked down the stoop and 
came up to me. 

She said: "Are you Mr. Meyers?'* I replied in the 
affirmative, and she invited me to come in to see Captain 
Vollardt. 

The place was luxuriously furnished. I was ushered in 
to the reception room, where I was greeted by several high 

42 



German officials in civilian clothing. There was a complete 
telephone equipment and the chief of the service was a woman 
whom I afterward discovered was the wife of a Prussian 
officer who was a prisoner in Russia. 

Captain Vollardt took me aside and gave me my instruc- 
tions. The general belief was that all wire connections be- 
tween Holland and Germany had been severed. What was 
my surprise, then, when the telephone bell rang and I heard 
the operator ask if Captain-Lieutenant Freyer was on the other 
end. The reply was apparently in the affirmative and for 
nearly an hour she read off from a long typed sheet details of 
vessels that were sailing from Holland ports. She was giving 
to the headquarters at Wesel news of the time of departure, the 
quality and quantity of the cargoes and the leading news 
from the English and French papers, all of which items had 
been collected by the Germans in the employ of the widely 
spread secret service. I was just a bit astonished. German 
thoroughness and efficiency, futile as things have turned out, 
were impressed on my mind. 

Bitter as I was before I was doubly so now. I could visual- 
ize ships being sunk by the German submarines and innocent 
souls being blotted out. I could imagine my own mother, my 
sister, some one near and dear to me being shot down into the 
depths of the ocean without reason. Germany had treated me 
badly. She had treated other sons of hers the same way and 
I could recall hundreds of cases of desertion. I had come into 
Holland inflamed against the Prussian military system because 
of my treatment by that dog, Grassman. I harked back to my 
happy days in the Transvaal when I was a friend of the Britons 
and they were friends of mine. I hated myself to think that I 
had gone to fight for Germany. I was determined now more 
than ever that I was going to make amends for my activity 
in the Prussian cause. Henceforth my trail led back to South 
Africa. I wanted to square things with my conscience. That 
came later. I did. 

Discipline is the first thing that the German boy learns. He 
must always obey his superiors. I had been used to doing this, 
but for the first time in my life I changed my mode of thinking. 

43 



At soul now I was a revolutionist against autocracy. No 
longer was I going to be the vassal of a thick-headed officer. 
I was in civilian clothes and I was wise enough to know that 
military orders need not be obeyed if I did not care to do so. 
Furthermore I was in a neutral country cuid considered myself 
safe. 

Vollardt requested me to change my quarters from the Com- 
mons to the Hotel Poppel, which was managed by a German 
who was a close friend of those at the consulate. At the 
Commons there were many French and British and he did 
not want me to mingle with them. I shifted my quarters, but 
it was the last time I obeyed his orders. I was once more 
seized with a violent attack of rheumatism when he called me 
at my room and insisted that I must go to Wesel on a special 
mission. 

I answered that I could not possibly travel, but he said 
that the best of care would be taken of me and that I would 
be conveyed there in comfort. I was suspicious that he was 
plotting to get me back to that hospital which had so many 
hateful memories to keep me there where I would be harmless. 

He did not like my attitude toward him. I could realize 
that. He knew that I was aware of the meeting-place of the 
German spies in the tea-rooms and cafes of Rotterdam. He 
saw that I was just doing routine work and that there was no 
great willingness about what I was doing. I was not paying 
him the deference that the others in service were and that auto- 
cratic spirit of the Prussian superior rebelled and sought re- 
venge. He wanted to get rid of me and when I told him of my 
illness he was suspicious that I had an ulterior motive. I was 
sure that he had an idea that I was mixing with the French 
and British. I was not worried. I knew where I stood. I was 
now the master of my conscience. I was penitent. I wanted 
to atone for what I had done against the English. 

I refused to go to Wesel. 

He tried to bulldoze me with the usual Prussian methods. 
I told him that I cared nothing for his orders, that Captain- 
Lieutenant Freyer was the person from whom I was to take 

44 



orders and that he was nothing to me. I added that I would 
report to Freyer at Wesel in writing. 

That night I wrote to Freyer, telling of my situation. I 
was powerless, sick and despondent. In the morning when I 
lay in bed two couriers came from Freyer. Vollardt had 
unquestionably communicated with him by telephone. Freyer 
had heard things before of other men who had been sent to 
Vollardt who had trouble and he wrote me a very nice letter, 
telling me to come on into Germany and he would have me 
se nt to the baths at Raffelberg. I was in a quandary 2ls to 
what I should do. I felt that I was under his orders and I 
was in such pain at the time that I felt that it would be the 
best thing for me to do. I hated to get back again into Ger- 
many, but I was s'lre that they would never keep me there. 

Much as my mind was against going back to Germany I 
accepted Freyer's orders, or you might call it request, and 
before I could get out of my pajamas, the two couriers who 
had brought the message had my luggage all packed and in 
no time I was on my way back to Germany. 



45 



VII. 

Under Suspicion of being pro-Ally and 
sent back to Germany 

SHORTLY after noon I arrived in Wesel with the two 
couriers and was escorted to the Imperial Headquarters. 
Right away I became suspicious when I noted that the 
couriers preceded me into Captain-Lieutenant Freyer*s private 
chambers. I jfigured that some secret message was to be deliv- 
ered by them from Vollardt. I was certain of this when I 
came face to face with him. The difference between Freyer 
and Vollardt was a marked one. Freyer was a polished 
gentleman, an aristocrat in his bearing, while Vollardt was a 
gruff and rather uncouth person lacking in the finer sensibilities. 
Freyer's greeting to me did not seem to be any too cordial 
after his conference with the couriers. 

I could see by his expression that he was not the warm 
friend or admirer of m.e that he had been in days gone by. I 
was in civilian clothing, but he was still my superior officer 
and I stood at attention as he spoke in a solemn and measured 
tone. It was as if a justice was passing sentence on a crim- 
inal. There weis an atmosphere of gravity in the situation 
and forebodings of further troubles were in my mind. 

"I have heard from Vollardt," he said, "that there were 
differences of opinion between you. Of course this is not the 
first time that such a thing has happened. There have been 
several men who were in the secret service in Holland who 
had the same experience. The custom has been to keep these 
persons in detention for the duration of the war. I realize 
what you did for the Fatherland by the valuable information 
you gave us. Remember, though, that this is war and the 
sternest sort of measures must be taken." 

!46 



"I will make an exception in your case," he added. "I 
will permit you to go back to the hospital here, for I see that 
you are still greatly in need of medical aid. According to 
routine, however, you will have to be reassigned to your old 
regiment. When this is complied with, I will see to it that 
you are transferred to the baths at Raffelberg." 

It was a blow to me to think that once more I should be 
forced to submit to the orders of Grassman. I was helpless, 
though, now. I knew I was in for some more sorry days. A 
courier was sent to the lazarette to obtain my uniform and within 
two hours I was back in the gray that I was learning to despise 
more and more every hour. Once more I was a soldier in 
the ranks of despotism. When I was in my uniform Freyer 
sent for me. He bade farewell to me with a hearty hand- 
shake and wished me a speedy recovery. 

His parting words, though, were ominous. "Remember," 
he said, "that what you have seen and heard are secret. Silence 
is golden. Take my advice and speak of nothing that you have 
learned in Holland or in any other place that you were on 
your way here. Keep it clearly in your mind that if you violate 
this secrecy you are subject to court martial. 

"You know what the penalty is in war-time for divulging 
anything that may be of use to the enemy or which may help 
to create discord among your fellow-soldiers." I assured him 
that I knew what the end would be. My years of service in 
the secret service in South Africa had taught me when to keep 
my mouth shut. I wasn't going to be foolish enough to be 
caught by gossiping. I was wondering a lot, though, of 
just how I was going to frustrate what I realized now was a 
well-laid plan to keep me practically a prisoner until the war 
was over. 

Luckily when I arrived at Grassman 's Festung's Lazarette 
he was not there. He was off on leave for a couple of days 
and before he returned I was shipped off to Raffelburg. 

The Raffelburg baths had been turned into a rest hospital. 
Before the war it had been a favorite resort for those who were 
suffering from rheumatism or gout and was conducted by a 

47 



Swiss whose wife was a Belgian. It was a resort now where 
volunteer nurses from the best class of society were in attend- 
ance. The chief nurse was the wife of the leading lawyer of 
Duisburg, which was nearby. 

She questioned me, as she was quite interested when she 
learned that I was the only member of the Fifty-seventh who 
had been sent there. I told her of how I had made the trip 
from South Africa to join the colors and that night I was 
invited to take a place at her table for dinner. I was nick- 
named "The Afrikaner." 

The story was spread about among the nurses and the 
following day the Belgian woman, wife of the proprietor, who 
had heard of what I had gone through, invited me to come 
and have luncheon with her. In my conversation with her it 
did not take me long to discover that she was in favor of the 
Allies. She was married to a Swiss with German ancestry, 
but I found out that she was not very loyal to him. He was 
wealthy and was of the temperament that was not bound down 
by home ties. He was of the kind that likes the club and the 
society of other women more than his wife. He preferred the 
butterfly existence. His wife was a woman who loved her 
home.- There was a big difference in their ideas of the conven- 
tionalities. The two were incompatible, I soon learned, and 
here I instinctively felt that I had made a discovery that was 
going to be of use to me. 

I had become popular enough in the lazarette, but there was 
always with me a haunting suspicion that I was there for a 
purpose. I was only an atom in the world war, still the thor- 
oughness of the autocratic system of Prussian militarism was 
watching me as closely as if I had bene a regiment of the 
enemy. 

The baths were surrounded by a beautiful park where the 
convalescents were permitted to walk. I was strolling along 
under the trees. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon, a 
time when practically all of the patients were taking a siesta. 
The thunder of cannon still boomed in my ears. I could not 
forget those days at La Bassee. I sought a spot where I might 

48 



watching me as closely as if I had been a regiment of the 
roar of bursting shells the sweet chatter of the birds was heard. 
I thought I was alone, but off in the distance at a window, 
looking out and possibly filled with thoughts of her own was 
Mrs. Jeanne, the wife of the proprietor. She could see me, 
although I was not aware of it. There must have been some 
telepathic connection between us two. The wireless of two dis- 
turbed souls was working in accord. She was lonesome ; I was 
lonesome. There were different reasons, to be sure, but our 
minds were in tune to each other. 

While I was sitting on a bench, looking out into space, 
trying to figure out what was coming to me in the days that 
were before me, I was tapped on the shouler. I started up 
and saw beside me Mme. Jeanne. She looked around and 
placed a finger to her lips. "Hush," she said, "I have some- 
thing to tell you that I think will be of interest to you." 

I was all attention, then. "I have learned," she told me, 
"that you are under surveillance." 

"Promise me, will you, that you will not disclose your source 
of information, if I tell you this?" 

I assured her that I would. 

Then she related of how her husband in a garrulous moment 
had confided to her that I was under suspicion apd that I was 
to be watched every moment. She said that a letter had been 
sent from Freyer with an order that I must be under close 
observation all the time. I asked where her husband had re- 
ceived his information. 

She told me that the chief of staff of the hospital had in an 
unguarded moment told her husband, probably because he did 
not like the attentions which were being bestowed on me. 

This information was a matter of great importance to me. 
Oh, how I hated the German system now. I realized that 
there was no sense of gratitude. Everyone who was in the 
fighting line was just an atom to be engulfed by the whim of 

49 



the Emperor. I was just one of those atoms and I was going 
to be obliterated if occasion demanded. I said that I would 
verify her statement. 

She asked me how. I told her that I would do it in a way 
of my own and that her name would never be mentioned. 
"They can kill me," I assured her, "before I shall ever men- 
tion your name." 

Training in the secret service teaches one to be cautious, 
never to act on impulse. I had learned in my days in Trans- 
vaal that it is a safe thing to sleep over a thought. The follow- 
ing morning always brings a more sober and sane view of 
what you niay have jumped at in the first place. I pondered 
over what she had told me and that night I went to bed, 
restless for some time, but finally sinking off into a sound 
sleep. I couldn't help dreaming of the events of the last few 
days. 

In the morning I went to see the chief of staff who had told 
Jeanne of my predicament. When I came into his office he 
assumed the same gruff attitude that I was becoming accus- 
tomed to. He was very lofty and stern in his greeting. He 
acted towards me as if I were some clod that should not be in 
the presence of such an austere personage. 

"What do you want?" he growled. 

"I want to see you in private," I replied in a voice that 
showed no temerity. 

He appeared somewhat surprised and dismissed his secretary. 
Then I launched out at him. 

"How is it," I said, "that you should have told some one 
that Captain-Lieutenant Freyer had sent a letter from Wesel 
ordering that I be placed under close observation during my 
stay here in Raffelburg?" 

"What are you talking about?" he answered. 

"I know what I am talking about," I said. "Furthermore 
you ought to have sense enough to realize that you have vio- 

50 



lated a military secret by talking to a civilian. In fact you 
even went as far as to tell this to a neutral." 

"You told Mr. Jeanne of my circumstances and if I wish 
to report this to Captain-Lieutenant Freyer you know what it 
will mean to you — prison for the rest of the war at least and 
possibly a worse fate.'* 

He knew he was trapped. He dropped his mask and shook 
hands with me as he apologized. He assured me that what 
had happened would be a secret. He became very kind to 
me then. He told me that I was under orders to be confined 
to the grounds, but that on his own responsibility he would 
grant me a pass to leave the grounds and visit Duisburg, Mul- 
heim or Dusseldorf as I wished. Into my mind then came the 
thought that I had an opening to escape from Germsiny and 
to be forever rid of that crushing heel of autocracy. 

The first chance I had I took a trip to Dusseldorf and had 
a pleasant time visiting the shops. I was particularly inter- 
ested in going through the places where maps were on sale. 
My plans were made. I wanted to get the lay of the land, 
for I was determined to leave Germany behind me forever. 
In one of the shops I found what I wanted. Remember the 
war was still in its infancy and Germany was still confident of 
success. There was no ban then on the sale of maps, and I 
was able to secure one. 

Not even in my boyhood days did I study geography as I 
did in the next few days. I had enough sense to know that I 
was going to be returned to my old regiment at Emmerich and 
probably to be sent back to the front to be slaughtered. I 
was not afraid of going into action once more, but I was now 
in a mood where I did not want to fight against the Allies. I 
considered myself like the Christmas goose which is fattened 
up for the banquet. The system was making me healthy 
again to be cannon fodder. 

It was not long before I was able to walk without the aid 
of crutches. I felt fine. The chief doctor looked me over 
and despatched me on to the old regiment to which I had been 
attached at Emmerich. 

51 



By this time I think I knew every inch of land between 
Paris and Rotterdam. I had studied the map carefully. I 
was already familiar with the country in the vicinity of Em- 
merich and I was planning that the first opportunity that was 
afforded me I would be on my way to Holland. Possibly I 
was a bit confident, but I always held to the idea that con- 
fidence was a big item in the road to success. 

This battalion at Emmerich was filling up day after day with 
new reservists. The Fifty-seventh was being recruited, as it 
was always during the conflict, up to war strength by men who 
had been at the front. It was one of the crack regiments. 
The Sixth Company, to which I was detailed, was composed 
mostly of men who had been wounded in action, or who had 
been suffering from illness, but who were now in pretty good 
physical condition. 

In the German army there is a distinction between the men 
in the ranks. The upper class is not on the same basis with 
the laborer as he is in the American army. I was entitled, 
because of my station iii life before war, to sleep in private 
quarters. 

When I reported to my commander he told me that I must 
go with the rabble. He told me that orders had been received 
to that effect. I was still suffering from the rheumatism and 
thought it cruel that I should be forced to live in the draughty 
barracks with the other soldiers. 

I refused to sleep there, explaining that my health would not 
permit me to remain in such an icy place. 
**You refuse to obey the order?" he said. 

"I have never refused an order yet," I replied. '*I simply 
can't execute it." 

It was a coincidence that just a year had elapsed since I 
was wallowing about the La Bassee trenches. It was now 
three days before Christmas of 1915 and once more it looked 
as if there would be no merry Yuletide for me. 

. The company commander knew that I was quibbling over 
words. There was no distinction in his mind between a point 

52 



blank refusal to obey 2in order and being unable to execute 
one. It was up to him to make me suffer and he was going 
to do it. 

"I am not refusing," I said. "I told you that my health 
is in such a state that I simply can*t comply with your request 
for the present." 

"We'll attend to that," he replied. I knew what was 
to happen then and my brain was working fast. In two or 
three hours I was called before the chief of personnel of the 
battalion. Meanwhile my mind was made up that I was to be 
on my way to Holland just as soon as the opportunity afforded. 

When I came before this officer who had charge of the 
cstses that were liable to court martial, he repeated what my 
commander had told him. 

"You refuse to obey the order given by your superior officer 
in war time?" 

I was independent then. My plans were all arranged. 

"Yes, I refuse," I answered him. "I have been tricked 
and deceived long enough and I am prepared to fight my case 
with those in supreme authority." 

"All right, if that is satisfactory to you, there is no need 
of further argument." 

"You start for Essen Monday morning, at nine o'clock. 
I suppose you realize what that means? Goodbye." 

With this curt dismissal, back I went to my company head- 
quarters. I was ordered to sleep in the barracks that night 
and soon learned that I was under strict observation and was 
not to be allowed any of the privileges that the others had. I 
was to be kept in close confinement until I was sent on my 
way to Essen. 

All that night I lay awake. My brain was in a turmoil. 
I was thinking of how to get away from this hateful system 
forever. At regular intervals in the night the officer of the 
guard came in and looked me over to see that I was still 
present. 

53 



Sundays were given over to tlie men for recreation. They 
were permitted to go to an amusement resort which was about 
half way between Emmerich and the Dutch frontier. It was 
one of those amusement halls or beer-gardens which are so 
common to Germany. I was not among those who were 
granted the privilege of spending a few hours there. 

In the Prussian army one of the first things that is done in 
the daily routine is for the officer of the day to ask if anyone 
reports ill. If he does it is a hard and fast rule that he must 
be sent to the surgeon in charge for examination and if he is 
found to be in poor physical condition he is allowed to remain 
in the **revier stube.'* This practically amounts to what is in 
America an observation ward. From this place the ill are 
despatched to other hospitals according to the nature of their 
cases. 

At the roll-call I reported sick and was despatched to 
the observation ward. Luck was still with me for the doctor 
in charge was the man who had examined me when I first 
arrived in Emmerich. He recalled my adventures in getting 
into Germany from South Africa and was still friendly toward 
me; In fact there was a very warm corner in his heart for me. 
He was a real man, one that was a cosmopolitan by nature and 
not one of those dull, brutish Prussians who had been fed so 
much on autocracy that they could thing of nothing else than 
the dictates of the Kaiser. 

I explained my situation to him. I told him how I felt 
and what a crisis there was before me. I impressed on him 
that I would need all the strength I could muster to be in a 
suitable position to face the courtmartial at Essen and re- 
quested him to let me stay at the "revier-stube" imtil Monday 
morning, when I must depart for that town. 

He was a sympathetic man and he realized that I had been 
badly dealt with. He gave me the requisite permission and 
once more I began to feel a bit cheerful. I was well aware 
of the fact that the guarding of the hospital was rather lax 
as compared to that of the barracks. I figured that if I were 
allowed to remain there I would have a fair chance to escape 
from the bonds of despotism. 

54 



When I arrived in Emmerich I had taken the precaution 
to hire private quarters in case of emergency. There I had 
left my civilian accoutrements. This move proved very valu- 
able. 

Below the "revier-stube" was a beer hall. In charge of the 
ward was a petty officer who could see no reason why he should 
not enjoy a little time off when most of the men he was sup- 
posed to guard were apparently safe. 

So far everything was breaking nicely for me, and I could 
not help but laugh at how the vaunted Prussian system of 
thoroughness and efficiency in militarism was going to be 
thwarted by just one common, ordinary soldier. Maybe this 
sounds conceited, but it was confidence and there is mighty 
little difference between conceit and confidence. 



55 



VIII. 

My Desertion from the Prussian Army 
into Holland 

THIS Prussian petty of&cer happened to be the same orderly 
who was the secretary to the doctor whom I met on my 
first arrival in Emmerich. He and I had struck up quite 
a little friendship in the bygone days and when I asked him 
if he would let me go to my private quarters to get some heavy 
underwear, as the weather was cold and I was suffering from 
the pains that were my heritage from La Bassee, he readily 
granted the permission. Little did he know what was in my 
mind. 

"Sure, you can go," he said, "but don't stay more than an 
hour and a half. You know what will happen to me if this 
is found out." 

It was late in the afternoon then, and I was certain that 
this would give me plenty of time to reach the Dutch frontier 
if Dame Fortune still accompanied me. Possibly he would 
not have been so ready to do this favor for me if my company's 
commander had not been taking a day off enjoying himself 
at Dusseldorf. 

Poor fellow, I often wonder what happened to him for this 
lapse of intelligence in the performance of his duties. 

I lost no time in making my way down to Gumpert's boot 
shop. They were old friends of mine. I told the family that 
I was feeling miserable and that I would love to have a little 
recreation down at the amusement park. Would they lend 
me a bicycle? 

The amusement resort was on the main road which led 
into Holland and my studies of geography from that map 

56 



which I had procured in Dusseldorf told me that it was only 
about a quarter of an hour's ride to breathe the air of free- 
dom once more. My heart was thumping against my bosom 
in the thought that forever I was going to be free of the 
clutches of Kaiserism. I was confident I would not fail. I 
was playing for big stakes now, but it was not the first time 
that I had gambled with fate. 

The Gumperts lent me the bicycle, and I was on my way 
in a short while to my private quarters. There I disrobed and 
put on civilian clothing. Three pairs of socks were on my 
feet, three suits of underwear and everything else in triplicate. 
I was determined to be well equipped. Then I put that hate- 
ful gray uniform over all, buttoned up my heavy military over- 
coat and I was soon on my way to Holland. I had taken my 
shaving things and just the necessary toilet articles. 

I rode down then to the amusement resort. It was thronged 
with a gay, chattering crowd. No one going in there then 
would have thought that not so many miles off the grim realities 
of war were being enacted. There were pretty girls in plenty, 
sitting at the tables, chaffing with the men in gray. 

I found an unoccupied seat at a table where some of my 
company were enjoying themselves. They hailed me gaily. 
I hung up my overcoat which had packed away in the pockets 
a tweed civilian hat and all the other things that I knew I 
would need on my trip to freedom. 

I was just as gay as the others. I chaffed with the girls 
and swapped stories with the men. It was not long before the 
sun had stolen away in the west. Eagerly I watched twilight 
lengthening into night. Soon there was the inky blackness of 
a winter night in northern Germany. The stage was set ^or 
me. It was now or never. 

I apologized for leaving such pleasant company, but I ex- 
plained that I must get back to the "revier-stube." During my 
stay at the table I had learned the name of an officer who 
was making a lot of money by smuggling in from Holland 
things that were now beginning to get scarce in Germany. 

52 



This little item may not seem important, but it was a life-saver 
to me. 

I left the party and instead of turning my bicycle to the left 
to go back on my way to Emmerich, I switched it in the direc- 
tion that I knew would lead me into Holland. Along the 
slippery road, for the snow had melted only a short while 
previously, I made my way into the darkness. At frequent 
intervals I was halted by German patrols flashing their lamps 
in my face. When they saw the field service uniform which I 
wore they did not stop me to ask for passports. Evidently they 
thought me a couierr on a special mission. I could not help 
wonder at their mental stupidity. 

Along I went through the gloomy night until I was getting 
close to the neutral road which comes between the German and 
the Dutch frontiers. 

There was a lot of profiteering being done in those days 
by the soldiers who were stationed close to the Dutch border. 
I had my cue. As I came up to the entrance of the neutral 
road, I asked the sentry who stopped me if any oil had come 
through for the sergeant who was the secretary of the Sixth 
Company of the Fifty-seventh. Evidently he was aware of 
the smuggling activities of this man, for he told me that he had 
not heard of any such thing, but that if I went on to the 
guardhouse which was about a thousand yards distsint, I would 
probably be able to learn there. 

I gave him half a dozen cigars and went on my journey. 
At the guardhouse I was halted and asked my business. 1 
was playing the game of bluff. 

With no signs of nervousness I went up and asked to see 
the officer in command. I was ushered in and there I saw a 
group of soldiers playing cards and sipping some of Holland's 
best gin. 

The sergeant in charge of the outpost asked me what was 
my business. 

*'Have you heard of a consignment of oil being sent across 
to Sergeant X., of the Sixth Company of our regiment?" 

58 



*'No," he answered, "those things never come through before 
midnight." 

"All right," I replied, "when the oil comes will you be 
kind enough to send a courier to the company's headquarters 
and let them know that it has arrived?" 

My story sounded plausible enough and he replied that he 
would. 

I handed out cigars for the men at the table and bade them 
farewell, a farewell which I was hoping would be a long one. 
Off I went then. In the distance I could see the lights from 
a farmhouse. I knew it was in Holland and I don't think I 
ever saw a more pleasing sight. There were only about 400 
yards more for me to cover before I would be rid of what 
I hated so much. 

I was still in a dangerous position and decided to leave the 
highway and take to the fields. At this time Holland was in 
the throes of the worst flood that had been experienced in 
twenty years and there was mud and water at the roadside 
knee-deep. I packed my cycle on my shoulder, and finding 
a little footpath that led through the fields to the farmhouse, 
I started on. 

When I had gone a short distance I felt that I was on the 
road to safety. Contempt filled my heart for the laxity which 
had enabled me to get as far as I was. I put down the bicycle 
and took off the loathsome uniform. It might have been fool- 
hardy what I did, but I wanted to show my scorn and disdain 
of the Prussian military system. 

I went back to the neutral road and I threw the bundle 
back into Germany. 

"Here you are, Wilhelm," I chuckled. "Take back the 
equipment. Perhaps you may have need for it some time for 
one of your dull-witted vassals." 

I wended my way back toward that welcome beacon in the 
farmhouse and soon I was knocking on the door. Presently a 
woman came and opened it, admitting me. She was startled 

59 



at my sudden appearance, but when I spoke to her in Dutch 
and explained my coming there she welcomed me. She was a 
Belgian, married to a Hollander, and of course had no sym- 
pathy with the Germans. 

The Belgian woman invited me into the house when I ex- 
plained my predicament and gave me hot coffee and we sat 
chatting over my adventures. She seemed quite interested and 
I was confident that I had chanced on a sympathetic soul. 
Presently a knock was heard and upon opening the door a 
young girl from a neighbor's house was admitted. She had 
come on an errand from her family. I learned that she lived 
close to the ferry that took people over into the main part of 
the town of Spyk to which I wanted to get. We were in the 
outskirts of that community. I wanted to be as near the ferry 
as possible in the morning and asked the girl if it would be 
possible to put me up at her house for the night. 

She told me that her brother worked in a munition plant 
in Emmerich on the night shift and possibly her folks would 
allow me to occupy his room. We then walked to her home 
and she told her father, an old Hollander, the circumstances 
and he agreed to let me pass the night there. 

I discovered that the old Hollander, in spite of the fact that 
his son was working for Germany, was favorable to the Allies 
and it was merely a case of necessity with him. I said that 
I was a British Colonial and that I had been on a secret 
mission in Germany to get information for the cause of my 
country. 

He was greatly interested in what he was learning of the 
conditions. I told him of the general unrest that was prevalent 
and of the hundreds who were deserting daily to get to Holland. 

A stranger coming into a small town like this was imme- 
diately an object of curiosity and the news soon spread to the 
village tavern that there was a German deserter in the vicinity. 
The keeper of the Tavern was a man who Weis in the service 
of Germany, smuggling oils, fats and other things that were 
becoming scarcer and scarcer in Germany. He did a big 
trade in this contraband and every day it was his custom to 

60 



journey to Emmerich, where he would receive his money for 
the goods. Naturally his sympathies were with Germany be- 
cause of what was to him a marvellous fattening of his pocket- 
book. 

I was seated with the family, sipping a little schnapps before 
retiring, when there was a knock and a demand for admission. 

*'You have a German deserter in there. Open and let us 
in,*' were uttered in gruff words. 

I asked the old man to delay until I had gotten my coat 
from the room upstairs. 

This done, the party entered. It consisted of the saloon- 
keeper and four soldiers from the nearby frontier outpost. 

**What are you doing here?" he demanded. "I know who 
you are.** 

It dawned on me that I had seen his face before. Then I 
remembered that, when I first came to Wesel I had noticed him 
hanging around Imperial Headquarters and that he must be 
in the employ of the Kaiser. 

"You are a deserter from the German army," he added, 
speaking German all the time. 

I replied in Dutch: '*Can*t you speak the language of this 
country?" 

He urged the soldiers to take me back as a deserter to the 
frontier. 

Turning to the soldiers and speaking to them in their native 
tongue, which I knew fluently, I explained to them that I was 
not a German deserter, but an Englishman deserting from the 
rauiks of the Kaiser. I felt confident that they would not 
dare molest me till they investigated my story. 

The innkeeper was still in a very argumentative mood. He 
insisted that he knew I had been in the German secret service 
in Holland. Evidently I had been pointed out to him when I 
was in Wesel. It was strange that I should just happen to 

61 



run into him. I was in a ticklish position but I still kept my 
wits about me. I told the Dutch soldiers they might escort 
me to the commander of their post and I would tell my story 
to him. This they agreed to do. They wanted to know 
where my uniform was, but I insisted that I did not have one. 

A crowd of curious villagers, attracted by the wordy war- 
fare in the house, idled outside speculating on what was hap- 
pening, I asked my venerable host if he would be willing to 
furnish testimony that I had arrived in Holland in civilian 
clothing. Two friends of his volunteered to act as witnesses 
for me and we started for the guardhouse. The soldiers ordered 
the innkeeper to leave me in their charge. He was so bitter 
that he wanted to start a fight with me. The two soldiers and 
the two civilians and myself then started off on a two-hour 
journey to the guardhouse. The fields were so badly flooded 
that we had to make the journey in a small motor boat. 

The attitude of the people in this little village was friendly 
and surely my host had shown hospitality that a German of 
his station in life would not have displayed. The two Hol- 
landers must have been strongly pro-Ally or they would not 
have come to my rescue. Later I learned that this sentiment 
prevailed in the middle class from the very outset of the war. 

Our party presently arrived at Sevenaar, a big military camp, 
from which the outposts were sent to patrol the frontier. We 
were received there by the sergeant of the guard to whom the 
situation was explained. He told me that the commandant 
was not in his quarters, but would be in any moment, and I 
would have to tell my story to him. 

I was treated with the utmost kindness and consideration. I 
was cold, hungry and soaking wet. The sergeant ordered a 
hot meal prepared for me and soon I was seated at a table 
before as fine a steak as I could have procured at the Savoy 
in London. It was now past midnight. My Dutch friends 
gave their testimony and departed, wishing me good luck and 
asking me to let them know what became of me. I could 
realize by my conversation with the soldiers and their general 
attitude that their sympathies were not with Germany. 

62 



Presently the whirr of a motorcycle was heard. The com- 
mandant had returned on it. I was escorted into his presence 
by the sergeant who told him that I was suspected of being a 
deserter from the German army. 

"Have you come from the German field forces as a de- 
serter?" he asked. This he addressed to me in English, for the 
sergeant had told him that I claimed English nationahty. I 
was glad to make my reply in English. 

"Yes," I smiled back at him, "I am a deserter from the 
German forces, but an Englishman." 

"What were you doing with the Germany army, then?" he 
questioned. 

"That is something I can't really discuss. I was there un- 
der orders of the British government." 

"Well, what are your plans; what are you doing in Hol- 
land?" he asked. 

"I am on my way back to England with news of vital im- 
portance, just as fast as I can get there," I replied. "I intend 
to go to Rotterdam and from there take a boat to London." 

He was apparently kindly disposed and not eager to dis- 
credit my tale. He treated me very courteously but said that I 
would have to furnish proof that I was a Briton and that he 
could take no other course but detain me for the night. He 
then left me in charge of the sergeant of the guard. 

My brain was working at high tension, now. I was won- 
dering what sort of an explanation I could frame up. 

Before being escorted to my quarters I asked the sergeant 
if there was any objection to my despatching a post-card. He 
replied in the negative and now I was going to take a long 
chance, one that did not figure to get one out of difficulties of 
the nature that I was in. It did, as events proved, and 
showed that the machinery of an army, no matter of what 
country, is liable to have weak cogs here cind there. 

I sat down and addressed a card to Consul Tom, the British 
63 



representative at Rotterdam on which I stated that I was being 
detained at a Dutch mihtary post, suspected of being a German 
deserter in spite of the fact that I claimed British nationality. 
Holland was in a rather nervous state at this time and did not 
care to offend Englemd. I wound up my communication by 
requesting an investigation of my whereabouts if I had failed 
to report to him at Rotterdam within the next 24 hours. 

I figured the sergeant would show the card to his com- 
mandant. I was then sent to a comfortable bed and had a 
good sleep. I was called before the commanding officer at ten 
o'clock the next morning. 

The commandant's greeting was very cordial and I felt 
that there would be good news for me. He handed me a 
cigar and apologized for having had to detain me. 

"You realize that on a Sunday night it is difficult to get 
into communication with any one at headquarters, so I had to 
wait till this morning before telephoning to the Hague. I did 
this and received orders that you were a free agent to go any- 
where you pleased in Holland. You may depart whenever 
you desire." 

I thanked him for his kind treatment and said I would lose 
no time in getting to Rotterdam. I learned that a train would 
be leaving the Sevenaar station in half an hour and fortified 
with a first-class breakfast furnished me at the post, I hastened 
forth. 

During the war-times one was always seeing curious things 
and meeting with strange coincidences. At the Sevenaar sta- 
tion waiting for the same train I was going to take there was a 
soldier in the uniform of the French in the company of two 
Dutch soldiers. This looked odd. 

From the gossip of loiterers about the station I learned that 
the Frenchman had been a prisoner of war in Germany and 
was forced to work in a coal mine. The party got into a 
compartment when the train rolled in and I entered the same 
one taking a seat opposite the Frenchman. Just before the 
train pulled out a well-dressed man of Teutonic aspect joined 

64 



us. I was suspicious when I saw this apparently well-to-do 
citizen travelling in the third class. 

The poilu was talking to the Dutch soldiers in a combina- 
tion of French, Belgian and Flemish, trying to tell them of 
how he had escaped from the internment camp. The well- 
dressed stranger time and again interrupted the conversation 
and I could figure that he was attempting to pump informa- 
tion out of the simple French soldier. 

"Don't you know that these are war times?" I addressed 
the poilu in French, "arid that it is dangerous to talk too 
much? You never can tell who your next door neighbor 
might be. Save your story of your escape until you are in the 
presence of your consul. What you may divulge may be of 
assistance to the Germans in preventing other fellow country- 
men of yours to escape." 

He was smart enough to take my tip and kept his mouth 
closed. At the next station the well-dressed man left the 
train. I figured then that he was one of the German espion- 
age agents who were working at Sevenaar trying to get all 
information possible from allied deserters. The journey to 
Rotterdam was now a quiet one. 

At the Rotterdam station I was approached by a short 
little chap, who greeted me in German, "Sind Sie armee deser- 
teur." 

"Go to hell," I answered him in my best English and he 
was taken so aback that I went through the gate without 
further molestation. I took a cab and made my way for a 
little hotel which I knew to be a rendezvous of French and 
Belgians and the proprietor of which was a Hollander with 
strong pro-Ally sentiments. 

When I registered I still stuck to the story that I had told 
the commandant at Sevanaar, for I was not taking any chances 
of his having reported me to the Dutch authorities. I did not 
want to be under surveillance any longer. The proprietor, 
when he learned that I was attempting to get back to Eng- 

65 



land placed a fine room at my disposal and after a bath 
I came down for dinner. 

Seated at the next table was a group which conversed in 
French or in Belgian. I learned from their conversation that 
the host had already told them who I was. Presently he 
came to my table and asked me if he might introduce me to 
them. I agreed and was soon one of the merry party. 

After a short conversation they showed me credentials that 
proved they were in the service of the Belgian and French 
secret service. They asked me if I desired henceforth to serve 
in the cause of the Allies. I replied in the affirmative, for I 
could never forget the brutal and inhuman treatment I had 
received at the hands of the Germans. I was determined to 
pay back everything in my power, not only for what had been 
done to me,, but for all the cruelty I had seen inflicted on 
others. 

They agreed to help me on my way to England, asking 
me if I wanted to go to the Hague where the French military 
attache would give me all the assistance I needed. An ap- 
pointment was made for the next morning and after a very 
pleasant evening in which I was further convinced that the 
espionage service of the French and the Belgians in Holland 
was far superior to that of the Germans, an appointment was 
made for the trip to the Hague at ten the next morning. 

We made straight for the offices of the French military 
attache. Here I was closely questioned. The French official 
wanted some convincing piece of evidence that I had informa- 
tion of value to the Allies, and that I was sincere in my state- 
ment that in the future I would work for them. I was assured 
that if I could furnish the right sort of material I would have 
no trouble in getting back to England and if I cared to from 
there back to my home in South Africa. 

"Well,'* I replied after quite a lengthy conversation, *'as a 
sample of my knowledge of the machinations of the German 
espionage in this country I will tell you just one thing. I think 
that will satisfy you for the present." 

66 



I then related the details of the secret telephone service be- 
tween Holland and Germany of which I had learned when I 
was stationed at Captain Vollardt's office in Rotterdam. This 
was all news to him and he appeared rather astounded. 

He still was not thoroughly convinced. 

"I would like you to run over to Amsterdam," he added, 
"and see Mr. HoUderdt, editor of the Amsterdamer *De Tele- 
graf,' and repeat to him what you have told me." 

Hollderdt, a native of Holland, it may be mentioned here, 
had been in hot water more than once with his government and 
had not long before been placed under arrest. The charges 
against him were that his writings were insistent that Holland 
was favoring Germany more than the Allies, and that there 
was really a secret understanding between Holland and Ger- 
many which was a violation of neutrality. 

All this time I had in my company a Belgian secret service 
man named Beukard, who acted as my bodyguard. We were 
inseparable. We went over to Amsterdam, where I was 
greeted by Hollderdt, who had been apprised of my coming 
by the French military attache at The Hague. We were soon 
engrossed in my story of the secret wire connections between 
Germany and Holland. This pleased him immensely. It veri- 
fied his suspicions and furnished rather convincing proof that 
there was foundation for his statements in his paper that there 
was an underground channel between Holland and Germany 
through which was leaking information valuable to the Kaiser's 
armies. 

It was peaches and cream for him and the following morn- 
ing 'De Telegraf printed in scare heads the story of the secret 
wire connection between the supposedly neutral Holland and 
Germany. 

Beukard received orders that morning that we were to pro- 
ceed to Flushing where arrangements had been made by the 
French military attache with the British consular office for my 
safe conduct to Ejigland. The English office at Flushing 
had, in the meantime, communicated with the British War 



Office in London. For an hour we waited at the British 
office, when a door opened and the chief of the Belgian secret 
service at Flushing entered. After a short conversation he 
conferred wath the British official and I soon had a permit 
for safe conduct to England and a first-class passage aboard 
the S.S. "Princess Julianna," which was to leave for Tilbury 
late that night or early the followmg morning. 

After receiving my credentials Beukard took me out to a 
cafe, where the Belgians and French secret service men congre- 
gated. We had a gay time until midnight when I boarded the 
ship, bidding good-bye to the Belgian and expressing my thanks 
to him for what he had helped me to do. 

In spite of the close question of most of the passengers I 
was permitted to go to my stateroom without delay. Here I 
was, on my way to England, with little more than the word 
of the British consul that I would be well treated and safe. 

That night I could not sleep; my mind was too full of 
thoughts of the past. Once more I was breathing the air of 
freedom. I was going to a land of democracy, a country 
where one's word was his bond. I felt that the yoke of autoc- 
racy was being cast ofF forever. As we steamed out I thrilled 
with the thought that German militarism was fast slipping out 
of my life. 

The sea was very rough and few could sleep and none of 
the passengers went on deck. There was a motley crowd 
aboard, many of them being Belgian refugees who had been 
robbed of their homes by the monster of autocracy. We 
arrived safely at six in the following night, without being threat- 
ened by the menace of U-boat warfare. 



ee 



IX. 
Safe at last in England 

WHEN the passengers <lisembarked they were taken to 
a strongly guarded enclosure, where a very thorough 
examination of luggage was made and each one strictly 
questioned as to his destination and motives for going there. A 
captain from the army intelligence bureau was in charge of the 
proceedings and the inspection was much more minute than it 
had been when I left Tilbury for Holland on my return from 
South Africa. I expected that there would be some one there 
to meet me. 

I was not disappointed in this surmise for soon I saw a 
hatless man enter through the gate and scrutinize the passsen- 
gers. Twice he passed me before I went up to him and told 
him that possibly he was looking for me. He asked me who 
I was and when I told him my ncime he brought me up to the 
captain zJiead of all the rest who were waiting. He was an 
operative from Scotland Yard. He introduced me to the 
officer and the latter lost no time in telling me that I was free 
to go on my way. My luggage was not even inspected. I 
knew then that the word of the British consul at Flushing was 
good, not that I had suspected otherwise. 

The Scotland Yard man escorted me to a first-class com- 
partment, which was reserved for the two of us. He closed 
the blinds so that we should have the utmost privacy and soon 
we were speeding on our way to London. On our arrival 
we took a cab and drove up to Scotland Yard. I was intro- 
duced to the officer in charge and he asked me what hotel I 
would like to go to. I told him that I had stopped at the 
Bedford on Southampton Row on my last visit to London, 
but he said that that hostelry was a bit distant and if I did 
not object he would prefer to have me nearer to the Yard. I 

69 



agreed to this and I was escorted to a nearby hotel by the 
detective. All this time not a question had been asked me. 
The man with whom I had come from Tilbury held a confer- 
ence in secret with his superior, who was apparently well dis- 
posed toward me. 

The Scotland Yard man took me to the hotel where I 
signed the strangers' book. The proprietor was apprised of 
the situation and I was given a nice room, where a delicious 
supper W£is served to me. An appointment was made for me 
to be ready at ten o'clock the following morning. On the stroke 
of the hour Detective-Sergeant Ginhoven, a Hollander by 
birth but a naturalized British citizen, met me. He had been 
detailed to my case by his superiors. He was an accomplished 
linguist and addressing me in German he asked me to accom- 
pany him to headquarters. There I was taken to the office 
of Mr. Thompson, the Deputy-Governor of Scotland Yard, 
without any delay. 

The office was a well appointed one. At a long table were 
seated Mr. Thompson, two high ranking officers of the army 
from the War Office and another from the Naval Intelligence 
Bureau. Mr. Thompson had charge of the initial questioning 
and for twenty minutes I was interrogated by him while the 
officers took down notes. 

This done, I was asked where I had my quarters. I told 
them and said that I was not particularly pleased with the 
Hotel. One of the army officers w^hom I afterwards learned 
was Captain Carter and who had been given full charge of 
my case, asked me where I would like to put up. I told him 
that I had been at the Bedford and that my luggage which I 
had brought from South Africa was in storage there. He 
asked me if I wanted to return there, but I replied in the 
negative. 

I explained to him that as it was not a very large hotel I 
would soon be recognized as one who had escaped and gone 
into the service of Germany and things might be rather un- 
pleasemt. 

He agreed with me and asked me what was my preference. 

70 



I told him I should like to go to the Strand-Palace in the 
Strand, one of the largest hostelries in London, where one 
would not be likely to encounter any person who knew him. 
He assented to this and detailed Detective-Sergeant Ginhoven 
to accompany me and aid me in getting suitable accommoda- 
tions. He added that all expenses would be assumed by Scot- 
land Yard. 

Before parting Captain Carter, the British army officer, 
requested me to make a detailed report of my doings in the 
secret service in Holland and my experiences in Germany in 
writing in the form of a diary to supplement the important notes 
which they had already taken down. He treated me with 
every courtesy and shook hands with me as we said good-bye. 
I felt reassured and calm. I was confident that the British 
were going to act toward me with consideration. 

Detective-Sergeant Ginhoven accompanied me to the Strand- 
Palace and introduced me to the manager. 

"This is Mr. Edward Meyers," he said, "an enemy alien. 
Have you any objections to his being quartered at your hotel?" 

"If he is registered," the manager repHed, "there is no 
reason why he may not remain here, for there are several other 
enemy aliens in the house ; but he will have to sign in a separate 
book which we keep for such cases." 

The Sergeant told him that not only did Scotland Yard 
vouch for me, but also the British War Office, and that all 
my bills were to be sent to the War Office for payment. 

The manager assigned me to a comfortable suite and after 
freshening up, Ginhoven and myself journeyed to the Bedford. 
More than a year had passed since my last view of that place. 
It was in August, 1914, that I had bade good-bye to it and 
started on my way to Holland and eventually the first-line 
trenches in the German service. 

It was now early in January of 1916, and oh, how happy I 
felt to be once more back on ground that was familiar and 
which had become endeared to me. Long ago I had realized 

71 



my mistake in fighting against a country that stood for democ- 
racy and I felt that it was almost as if I were going into the 
trenches to do my bit against autocracy. 

The manager was approached and asked for the luggage 
which I had left behind in 1914. Ginhoven showed him his 
authority from Scotland Yard and when a verification of this 
was received a porter was ordered to look it up. He soon came 
back with word that it was still there in the storage rooms, 
intact, and it was delivered to us. We then returned to the 
Strand-Palace. 

The sergeant took me to a nearby police station in Picadilly, 
where he introduced me to the desk officer who had been an 
old fighter in the British army. This grizzled chap greeted 
me affably when he learned that I had escaped from Germany 
and that I had come to England to do what I could for the 
cause of the Allies. 

*'How long do you think the war will last?" he asked. 

"A couple of years yet," I replied. 

"I think from what I have learned that it will be ten years 
before it is finished," was his statement. 

An identification card was given me and I was instructed 
thai I would be a free agent and if I should get into any 
difficulties all I would have to do would be to call up this 
station and all necessary assistance would be given me. The 
only restrictions placed on me were that I must be at my 
hotel by ten o'clock at night, but that if I wanted to remain 
away from my quarters later than that special permission 
would be granted me. They assured me that all they wanted 
to know was where I might be reached. With this done Gin- 
hoven bade me good-bye and I was at liberty, comparatively. 

Before I parted with Ginhoven I told him that if he should 
want me at any time in the afternoon he might call up Wyn- 
burne and Company, in Castle Street, and explained to him 

72 



that they were old friends of mine from South Africa, who 
were conducting a large manufacturing business. I did not 
want to call on Irvine again, the friend who had almost gotten 
me into serious trouble on my last visit to London. I con- 
sidered it the safe plan not to borrow trouble. 

The Wynburne's were surprised to see me. They were 
doubly so when I related my story to them. In the days 
following my arrival at the Strand-Palace I used to devote 
four hours to writing my diary. Frequently I was called up 
at Wynburne's by Ginhoven to meet him at Scotland Yard to 
answer questions and receive my expense account, which was 
always a generous one. Sundays I always dined with the 
Wynburne family at their home. 

In about a week's tiiiie my diary was completed and then 
all I was obliged to do was to report about twice a week to 
Captain Carter to elucidate certain points in my report and 
give more intimate details. 

In my report and in my conversations with Captain Carter 
I told of how I knew of several men in the espionage service of 
Germany who were making regular trips aboard the Holland 
line between Rotterdam and New York. I could not tell him 
their names. That would have been useless anyhow, for they 
were probably travelling under assumed names, but I assured 
him that I could readily point them out. 

It was now late in February. During my six weeks' stay 
in London there had been little restriction on my comings and 
goings and most of the evenings I spent at the theatre and seldom 
was home before eleven. I was treated with far more leniency 
than the ordinary enemy alien. Evidently my information had 
been appreciated. I had been having a very enjoyable time to 
make up for the days of terrorism through which I had passed. 

One day I was asked to report to Captain Carter. He said 
that in his opinion I might do better work if I were assigned to 
a neutral country and asked me if I would be willing to go to 

73 



the United States. I told him that I was at the call of Great 
Britain to undertake any mission which it considered me capable 
of fulfilling and that I did not care what might be my destin- 
ation. 

"Righto," he answered, "how would you like to take a 
trip to New York?'* 

"That suits me perfectly," I answered. 

The sailing lists were looked up and it was found that the 
"California" was due to leave Liverpool on the following 
morning. 

"Would you be prepared to ship aboard that vessel?" asked 
Captain Carter. 

I assured him I would and he made arrangements to provide 
me with plenty of funds for my voyage. He also assured me 
that I would be given a liberal bonus for the work that I had 
already rendered in the cause of the Allies. 

Sergeant Sage, who had been detailed to my case for the 
last eight days, was instructed to book my passage for New 
York, which he did and I was destined to bid farewell to 
London, that city which all my life I had loved. I had been 
given a sum which was adequate to cover my trip cmd went 
to pay a final visit to my friends, the Wynburne's, after spend- 
ing most of the afternoon in shopping for the things which I 
considered requisite. 

I was told that upon my arrival in New York I was to 
report to the British Consulate and apprise the officials there 
of anything of value that I might learn in New York. I was 
assured that they would give me any assistance that might be 
necessary if differences should arise with the American immigra- 
tion officials. 

That night at ten o'clock the stage was all set for what mighg 
prove to be another adventure worth while. As fate ruled, 
so it did. This time, though, it was not so much an adven- 

74 



ture of war; it was an adventure of love, and who has been 
born yet who can say which is the more hazardous — war or 
love? 

Sergeant Sage met me and we went off for the St. Paul 
station. I bade him farewell and got on the train. I looked 
out through the window as the train was to pull out for Liver- 
pool a minute after midnight and I noticed that he was in 
conversation with the conductor. Immediately I realized that 
he was instructing him that I was to be watched. In spite of 
all the cordiality and courtesy that had been shown me by the 
British officials I realized that I was to be kept under surveil- 
lance. The British secret service was not taking any chances 
that at the last moment I might get into difficulties on my trip 
to Liverpool. They wanted to see that I landed safely there 
without getting into any intimate communication with passen- 
gers aboard the train. Every wall had eyes and ears in Great 
Britain in those days. You could never trust your own key- 
hole unless it was plugged up. 

So we went on to Liverpool and arrived there at six in the 
morning of a pitch dark, rainy February day. As we were 
detrained I was looking for some one to be shadowing me. I 
looked about and noticed a tall, mysterious person who was 
scrutinizing the labels on the luggage of the different passen- 
gers who were booked for a sailing. There were only about 
thirty of them. After I had gone through the regular routine 
of examination I thought I would slip over to the Adelphi 
hotel and have a little eye-opener. My suspicions about that 
tall, lanky individual were confirmed when I saw him almost 
at my elbow. 

This mysterious person was close to me the little while I 
remained in the cafe. I thought I would have a bit of fun 
with him and adjourned to the wash-room. There I remained 
about ten minutes, feeling sure that I would make him nervous. 
Presently he came in, evidently thinking that I had eluded him 
by getting out some back entrance. I was chuckling to myself 

75 



and determined to carry along a bit further, so I went into 
the dining-room and had my breakfast. I dallied over the 
morning papers for nearly two hours and every once iii a 
while I would see his face at a window which had command 
of the room. After I considered that I had been spoofing him 
quite enough I went out into the rain and made as if I were 
going to board a tram. Immediately he was at my shoulder. 
I then changed my mind, as he thought, and politely asked 
him if he could give me the correct time. He told me it was 
half past nine. 

"Listen, old chap," I said. "You have me under observa- 
tion, haven't you?" 

"What do you mean by that?" he replied. 

"Oh, never mindl, but when I left London," I answered, "I 
was told by Sergeant Sage, of the Scotland Yard, that I was 
going to be watched until I got aboard the 'California.* You 
are in the Secret Service, I imagine. I was, too, for a long 
time and I was rather amused to watch you watching me." 

He smiled then, and admitted that he had been detailed to 
keep track of me. 

"Come along with me," I said, "and we will spend the few 
hours that are left before sailing in my company. There is no 
use of you standing out in the rain and being uncomfortable. 
I want to get a few toilet articles and we can make our selec- 
tion together." 

He was a nice sort of chap, a man who had been in the 
secret service or the police force for most of his life. He had^ 
to do his duty and there was no personal grievance between the 
two of us, so he readily agreed that we should keep company 
until the time of the sailing, for it would relieve him of a lot 
of unnecessary details. 

We spent a few hours plecisantly together, shopping for 
toilet articles and having tea together before we came back to 

76 



the quay. He told me that his last duty was to see me safely 
aboard and that he would give me a signal to show that he had 
fulfilled his orders. On the wharf there was an extremely close 
inspection of the luggage of the passengers and a strict inspec- 
tion of their passports followed by a full interrogation of why 
they were leaving England for America. 



77 



X 

On my way to America I Discover the 
One Woman 

I HAD no passports, simply a little note from the Home Office 
to the effect that I was Edward Meyers and that I was to 
be sent on to my destination without further questioning. 
When I was taken up to the chief emigration official the pas- 
sengers who were ready to embark were somewhat surprised 
that I was sent through without any red tape. All I was asked 
to do was to write down my signature on the letter which i 
had received from the Home Office. 

I walked up the gangplank and after showing my ticket 
to the purser I was taken by a steward to my cabin. As soon 
as I had placed my luggage in order I went up on deck. No 
friend was allowed to come aboard to make the final farewell. 
On the quay there was a crowd waving good-bye to their 
friends. I had none there and felt a bit lonesome. As it hap- 
pened I stood between two women who were watching the 
scene as arrangements were being made for us to steam out 
into the stream and begin our voyage for America. 

There were few cheerful faces. Tears were prevalent 
among the passengers, not that they were afraid of the U-Boats, 
but it was that nervous tension of those who were making an 
adventure into an unknown region. Down below on the wharf 
handkerchiefs were applied with great frequency to eyes of 
those who were a bit perturbed that perhaps they would not 
see again those who were dear to them. Remember, it was 
then the day when the pirate craft of the sea, the German 
submarines, were at the height of their success. 

78 



On my right there was a woman, all bundled up in furs. 
She was chatting gaily with friends who had come to see her 
off. There were no tears in her eyes. She was gay and 
chaffing with the sombre personages who were wishing her a 
safe voyage. 

My interest was aroused. I wondered who she might be. 
I heard her speaking of her dear little dogs, and I could not 
help but think that this was a rather strange thing to be thinking 
of just before going out into the vast sweep of the Atlantic, 
where at any moment we might find lurking for us, one of the 
U Boats. 

There were no salty tears streaming down her cheeks; none 
down mine. I was convinced that she had run the gamut of 
the German sea menace before and I was determined to make 
her acquaintance. 

Orders in those days were that everyone had to wait for 
the word of the Admiralty before clearance was granted. It 
might be a minute; it might be an hour. In our case it was 
four hours before we received orders to proceed on our journey. 
We slipped out of our moorings, down stream where we were 
ordered to anchor until further information from the British 
sea dogs that were guarding the waters from the shores of 
Britain to those of America. All night long we lay there at 
our anchorage, after being instructed in the necessary manoeu- 
vers in adjusting life-belts in case we should be attacked by a 
German submarine. 

It was a gloomy, nasty night, one characteristic of that time 
of year on the on the southwestern British coast. It was not 
raining, but it might; just as well have been, with the huge 
gobs of dripping mist which enshrouded the vessel. 

I walked up and down the deck, peering into the inkiness 
of that night, pondering over who my fellow-passengers might 
be and tr3nng to sense their thoughts. I knew what m.ine were. 
Summed up I might say, *'Get us away as soon as possible." 

79 



I feared no submarine. I had dared other things that had 
made me learn to put fear behind me. The gods of wits and 
discretion were my deities. Fear was non-existent. I wondered 
as I puffed at cigar after cigar how many were of the same 
mental attitude. 

All night long we lay at anchor. At midnight I retired emd 
dropped into a deep sleep. When I awoke we were on the 
high seas bound for the land which stood most for the demo- 
cratic idea in the scheme of world government. I slept one of 
the soundest sleeps I had enjoyed in many a moon. There 
was nothing further, as I could see, to worry about. 

After being rocked into sweet dreams all night by Father 
Neptune I awoke in the morning and came on deck. The 
brisk sea breeze and the lazy loll of the sea, combined with 
the vibration of the California which was speeding along at 
her best, put new life into me. My pains were all forgotten. 
I felt new life coming into me, physically as well as mentally. 

After luncheon I adjourned to the smoking-room, where it 
was not long before I was acquainted with an interesting 
group of men who were making the trip back to America. A 
game of bridge was suggested. We were all eager to reHeve 
the monotony of the voyage. 

In the party which expressed a desire to sit down at the table 
were a British official, who was going to take the place of the 
governor of one of the colonial possessions of Great Britain, a 
lieutenant, who had been all through the hell of Gallipoli and 
who had been relieved to return to the secret service bureau in 
its operations in the United States, and another Briton, who 
was agent for the American Bethlehem Steel Company, who 
was on a flying visit to America — Albany Fetch. 

Mr. Fetch was a lovable character, a born leader, and aji 
entertainer. He was at the head of all the sports aboard ship, 
always trying to discover some new diversion to keep the minds 
of the passengers off the menace of the submarine. 

80 



The first day that he arranged a pool on the number of 
knots that the ship would run, the "Lady of the Furs," the one 
beside whom I stood at Liverpool as farewells were being 
made, happened to hit on the lucky number. I was eager to 
meet her and here I saw my opportunity. I asked Mr. Fetch 
if he would grant me the privilege of presenting her with the 
prize. This he graciously allowed me to do. 

I walked up to the "Lady of the Furs" and told her that 
she was the winner of the prize which amounted to five sover- 
eigns. She smiled sort of cynically but most politely at me. 
She had been aboard ship before and she was not a novice 
in these flirtations of the sea. She considered me just one 
of those travellers who like to while away the time from port 
to port with a harmless little bit of love-making. She would 
not believe me that she was the winner, for she had seen me 
walking past her several times, looking as if I should like to 
make her acquaintance. 

Mr. Fetch came up, though, and assured her that she was 
the victor. Then the ice was broken and it was not long before 
we had arranged a merry little party of the subscribers to the 
pool, winner and losers ahke, and we celebrated the occasion. I 
saw to it that my steamer-chair was next to hers. There was 
some good champagne aboard and we ordered a round for 
all. We had a jolly party and all were soon acquainted and 
swapping stories of their pasts and what they hoped to be their 
futures. War was the last thing in our minds then. 

Bridge was no longer interesting to me. I forsook the 
smoking-room and a new partner had to be found to take 
my place. I was up betimes, pacing the decks for the arrival of 
the "Lady of the Furs." Soon she came out and took her 
accustomed station. I strolled up and bade her good morning 
and spoke a lot of innocuous things about the weather and the 
doings aboard ship. 

I noticed that she had two wonderful little dogs in her arms 
that she caressed fondly. I did not know what they were, 

81 



but it was not long before she disclosed the fact that her hobby 
was the raising of Pomeranians and that these were possibly 
two of the best in the world. 

I could grasp at any straw, for by this time I was saying 
to myself, "Here is the one woman that I have been seeking 
in my thougfhts and dreams all my life." 

I then began to recall the days down in South Africa when 
I had a fancy for Great Danes and had quite a respectable 
kennel of them in the Transvaal. I had my cue. We began 
to talk dogs. 

The "Lady of the Furs" invited me to come below to the 
quarters of the butcher, for you know that he is always the 
man who takes, care of dogs that are makings trips aboard 
ship. I was delighted that she should let me share in her pleas- 
ure and so were the others who were looking for any sort of 
diversion from the routine of the daily sailing. 

That party of ten became very friendly as the journey 
shortened. There were many visits down to see the little pets 
that "The Lady of the Furs" was bringing across to America. 
One of them, by the way, which she held in her arms the 
morning I first made her real acquaintance developed into a 
champion in America, Fairfax Wee Freddie, which proved to 
me later that she knew what she was talking about. 

Time was getting short. Soon we were going to be wending 
our way up the Narrows of New York Bay. 

It was late at night. The stars were out. We were all on 
the qui vive for a leuiding in the western metropolis. Things 
had ripened rapidly between me and "Kitty," for I had 
now learned to know her by this name. I had lied a bit to 
her, for I had told her that I was a native of South Africa, 
and she was one of the most loyal British women I have ever 
met. All along our trip in the last few days of the voyage 
the passengers had been chaffing us. They were figuring that 
perhaps there was a romance in their midst. 

82 



We were coming close to the shores of America, the land 
of hope, the land of accomplishment. We sat there on deck, 
listening to the purring of the propellers. We tried to find the 
Star of Venus in the skies, that brilliant orb which thousands 
before have sought for when they were in a romantic mood 
aboard ship. It was getting close to saying good-bye. 

My heart was pounding against my bosom. Perhaps I 
was conceited enough to think that hers was. The Statue of 
Liberty was about to loom up the distance. I hoped for it, 
soon as possible. 

My training in the secret service had taught me that the msui 
of impulse is usually the man of success. In love I was a man 
of impulse. I had the experience that the man who 
labors along with a lot of words never gets einy place. With 
a woman whom you love and whom you want, the least said 
the better. The curter you talk to her, the more up-to-the-point 
things you say, are going to convince her that your intentions 
are sincere. 

We were racing along through the seas when I made my 
declaration. She seemed not averse to accepting me. I wanted 
to be honest and as we sat there, thinking of the step that might 
be taken I told her that I had a secret to confide in her before 
we should seal the bargain. 

*'I shall tell you something that I would tell to no one else 
in the world," I said, "provided you will not disclose it to 
any one." 

She swore secrecy, for I realized then that she was in love 
with me and willing to play the game of life alongside of the 
South African adventurer, the German secret service man, the 
soldier for the Kaiser in the trenches and eventually a man who 
was to work for the cause of the Allies. 

We were sailing along in a lazy sea. It was dark, with 
nothing to disturb us but the stars that were popping out of 
the heavens. I looked at her in the darkness, the **Lady of the 

83 



Furs" who had attr acted me so at Liverpool. I was going to 
lose no chance cind I gasped a moment and said: 

"I love you; won't you be my wife?** 

She was somewhat startled at this sudden declaration. I 
told her that I was sincere and that I would tell her something 
that few but God Almighty could worm from me, if she would 
believe my intentions. She announced that she was willing 
to listen to me, and then I announced that I had been prevari- 
cating and that I had been born a German. 

As I told her this she nearly collapsed. 

I then told her the true story of my life, how I had been 
born a German, how I had lived in South Africa for so long 
and of my escape to Germany to fight for the Kaiser. I 
assured her that I was now pro-Ally and she was convinced 
that I must be, else I would not be aboard a British ship. 

"Edward, I believe you,*' she said, "and am willing to 
accept you. I was trembling with happiness, and after sealing 
the bargain with a kiss, I quickly rushed below to find Mr. 
Fetch to announce the glad tidings. In his cabin there were 
several officers who were returning to Canada indulging in a 
farewell party. These were the chief chaffers who had been 
poking fun at the two of us on the voyage. A cheer went 
up from them when I made the announcement that the charm- 
ing British woman was going to be my wife. 

There was nothing to it but that we awaken the chief steward 
who obligingly opened the smoking-room, thus proving once 
more the old saying that "All the world loves a lover." 

Champagne was opened and we had a merry party to cele- 
brate our adventure into the land of love. Till four in the 
morning we sat there reminiscing over the early days of the 
shipboard courtship and the little incidents which had led up 
to the engagement, while the champagne flowed joyously. We 
had but few a hours' sleep before we felt the ship come to a 

84 



halt. Dressing hurriedly we were soon on deck and the heart- 
stirring sight of the Statue of Liberty filled us with emotion. 
It was my first view of it and it wets doubly inspiring to me, 
because I at last was in the land of true democracy and behind 
me forever lay autocracy. 



85 



XL 
More trouble in New York 

AFTER the usual routine of the inspection of immigration 
officials and with little questioning I was permitted to 
land and once more I was in a neutral country. It was 
March 1 , 1916 and little did I dream that it would not be so 
many months more before the United States would be em- 
broiled )in the conflict to cast off the yoke of despotism. 

I made haste to get quarters at the McAlpin Hotel, while 
my new-found fiancee put up at the Gregorian nearby. I was 
in the shackles of Cupid and was making the most of my 
strcuige happiness. New York was new to me and I was 
thrilled at the sight of the towering buildings, the wonderful 
restaurants and cabarets and the theatres. I was doubly happy 
because I could enjoy seeing them in compziny with one I 
loved. 

It took me a week to come down to earth and I reported to 
Captain Guy Gaunt, the British naval attache, telling him of 
my mission and stating that I expected within a few days to 
furnish him with information of value to the Allies. Captain 
Gaunt gave me his private telephone number and told me to 
call him when I had anything to disclose. 

The days passed by swiftly and Kitty and I had made our 
minds up to get married as quickly as possible, the date eventu- 
ally being set for April 4. My mind was full of the impend- 
ing marriage and I could not get my mind on business. We 
celebrated our marriage at the Gregorian, in the company of a 
jolly party, which adjourned to Maxim's, where the nuptial 
celebration was continued until four in the morning. 

Two days after my marriage I was back at work in the secret 

86 



service and gave to Captain Gaunt information about a German 
spy who was travelling between New York and Rotterdam, 
which he considered of high importance. He cabled this imme- 
diately to the War Office in London. I never knew what the 
outcome of this was, but I was pretty confident that the shrewd 
British authorities would take care of the matter. 

There was little for me to do in the secret service and for 
five weeks Kitty and I lived in the bliss of two well-mated and 
congenial souls, motoring to the outlying districts of the American 
metropolis and seeing all that was worth while. 

Fate still, however, seemed to have a finger pointed at me. 
In our hotel they were fumigating an adjoining apartment and 
some careless operator failed to seal up all the apertures which 
led into our room. Under the door which connected with our 
bedroom the poisonous fumes trickled. Luckily a waiter came 
with our breakfast and aroused us. We noted that our little 
Pomeranian was coughing and presently began to vomit. 

Everything tasted bitter and I began to cough like the dog. 
I became suspicious and getting into a dressing-gown I went 
out into the corridor. Opposite me I saw a sign on the door 
of the adjoining apartment, "Danger." I rushed back and 
shouted to Kitty: "My God, we are poisoned.'* 

With that I collapsed and for several hours was unconscious. 
The dog died in twenty minutes. 

We were shifted to another apartment and a doctor was 
called. When I came to I had a recurrence of the pains that 
were my heritage from the German trenches and for six months 
I was almost as helpless as I was after leaving the battlefield 
at La Bassee. Once more I had to walk with the assistance of 
crutches. 

After three weeks' confinement at the hotel we took a house 
overlooking the Hudson at Yonkers and there we spent the 
summer months. 

One of the common after-effects of life in the trenches is a 
&7 



loss of memory. I had suffered this, but I was cured when I 
arrived in America. The effect of those fumes Wcis as if I 
had been gassed on the field of battle and once more I was in 
a state where i could not remember things for any length of 
time. I was then practically useless in the secret service. 

The summer passed and I gradually began to mend. By 
October of 1916 I was able to make my way about with the 
assistance of a walking stick. We determined to come back 
to live in the city and I wanted to please my wife by furnishing 
her with a place where she could enjoy her hobby of keeping 
several prize-winning thoroughbred dogs, which, by the way, 
were some of the choicest of England's stock. So we took a 
house in the Herald Square district and with this beginning I 
became interested in real estate and determined to make this 
my future business. 

What I had seen of the Americans filled me with a desire 
to make my home in the United States for good. They were 
cordial, free and happy. There was no spirit of oppression in 
their moods. Life in the land of liberty furnished a strong 
contrast to what I had seen in Germany. I resolved to become 
a citizen of Uncle Sam's country and took out my first papers 
in January of 1917. 

Fate still marked me. Through thick and thin I stuck to 
the story that I was a native of South Africa and no one, except 
my wife and Captain Gaunt knew my true status. When 
diplomatice relations were severed between the United States 
and Germany in April I began to feel uneasy. I trusted that I 
would not be discovered and did not register as an enemy alien, 
which all those who did not have their full citizenship papers 
were obliged to do. 

The real estate business was flourishing and by November I 
had several houses in which I rented out furnished apartments. 
That winter was one of the most severe experienced in New 
York in a generation and to add to the discomfiture of the 
population there was a shortage of coal. I advertised in an 



evening paper that I liad a comfortable steam-heated apart- 
ment for rent. A married couple from Greenwich Village, 
the haunt of Bohemians, where steam heat was practically un- 
known, came and asked me if they could have the apartment. 
They seemed respectable enough and I let them have the lodg- 
ings. 

The following morning a smartly dressed man came and 
asked me if I could let him have a room. I told him that 
everything was occupied with the exception of the parlor floor. 
He asked my price cind I told him. While we were talking 
he began to question me as to who the other tenants were. 
When I mentioned the name of Major Edmonson, who was 
in charge of the British remount service in New Jersey, at the 
time resided in my house, he expressed great interest in him. 

I began to get a bit suspicious over the particular interest he 
was showing in the Briton, and closing the door of the room in 
which we stood, I asked him what his real business was. I 
was convinced that it was not a room that he was looking for. 

I told him that I was strongly pro-Ally and he answered 
that he was glad to hear that. He asked me where I was 
born and I still stuck to my story that I was a British Colonial. 

"Who are you, though, I should like to know?" I asked him. 

He then showed me a badge of the Military Intelligence 
and produced his credentials. He then admitted that he had 
come to keep under observation a certain party which had 
arrived from the Greenwich Village the night before. I was 
dumfounded. I could not help but wonder if there would ever 
come a time when my lucky star would begin to dawn. 

We arranged to have a conference with Major Edmonson 
that night and at six o'clock the military intelligence man, ac- 
companied by a man from the naval bureau, visited the house. 
They explained the situation to the Major and asked him if 
he would not permit them the use of a room in his apartment 
for necessary work in observing the suspects. Major Edmon- 

89 



son asked them for the name of their superior and when they 
mentioned Major Biddle, chief of the miUtary intelHgence 
bureau in New York, he said that in the morning he would 
get into communication with him and that if he vouched for 
them they might have his entire apartment for their operations 
as he would be only too glad to do all he could for the United 
States. 

With that the two agents departed and the following morning 
at half past ten I received the O. K. from Major Edmonson 
and that they were to have the freedom of his apartment. They 
arrived soon after and in half an hour or so they had dicta- 
phones installed where they would do the most good. 

For four months the Greenwich Village couple was kept 
under constant surveillance and I did all I could to assist the 
intelligence officers. One day the w^fe came up to me and 
announced that her husband had enlisted in the American army. 
I immediately telephoned this information to the Military Intel- 
ligence Bureau and Inspector Brady was soon up at the house. 
He spent a long time interrogating the couple and finally came 
to me, announcing that the suspicions were unfounded and that 
the pair that had been under observation was all right. 

Inspector Brady left me thanking me for the good services I 
had rendered his department and he assured me that I might 
let the couple remain. 

This did not appeal to me, however, and I conferred with 
my wife as to what she thought was the best course. The 
Greenwich Village woman said that she desired to remain and 
related that she and her husband had been under suspicion, 
not knowing that I was already well aware of this. I did not 
want to have such doubtful characters in my house and decided 
to get rid of them just as soon as their time was up. It took 
me six weeks, though, before I was able to have the apartment 
vacated because of their difficulty in obtaining another one of a 
suitable nature. 

A load was lifted from my mmd as soon as I saw the 

90 



last trace of that couple. I began to breathe a bit more freely 
and felt that perhaps the clouds were going to break at last. 

Perhaps I was breathing freedom a bit too soon. I had not 
yet done in my dealings with Dame Fate. One thing after 
another seemed to pursue me. Late in the summer of 1918, 
when America was engrossed to the fullest in the war, I once 
more had a vacant apartment and again I advertised it for 
rent. A man who called himself Van Earp replied and when 
I told him that I did not want any enemy aliens on my prop- 
erty he replied that he was a Hollander. I thought I might 
test him in speaking the language of Holland, but he told me 
that he had been so long out of the country that he had become 
rusty in the use of the language. I let him have the room. 

It was not long after that the maid who had charge of his 
quarters reported to me that there was some one else sharing 
the apartment with him. I questioned him about this and 
he answered that he was entertaining a friend. I asked him if 
his friend were a German, because the maid had told me that 
he could not speak good English. 

"No," he answered, "he is an Austrian of a very good fcun- 
ily, and an old friend of mine whom I know from the other 
side." 

This satisfied me for the time when I was assured that he 
had been registered and had his papers of safe conduct. Still 
I was suspicious. Things did not look right. Van Earp had 
told me that he was in the hotel business and that his friend 
was holding down a temporary job as a night clerk at the 
Hotel York, although he was really a professor of languages 
and that he slept in the day time. 

It all sounded a bit fishy to me, but I had no direct evidence 
that would condemn either one of them. One morning the maid 
came to me and announced that the apartment was vacant and 
I thought I would do a little exploration. When I went down 
I found that the shutters were equipped with special locks that 

91 



had not been there when I rented the apartment. This looked 
particularly queer. I figured there was something odd in the 
case. 

Van Earp had told me that his friend, an Austrian, was 
only earning $60 a month, but he was always well dressed and 
seemed to be in good circumstances. Van Earp explained this 
by saying that he was making up all financial deficiencies for 
his friend. 

At this time there was a rush to work in the munition plants 
because of the inflated wages. One day I happened on Van 
Earp in the tea-room which weis on the ground floor of my 
house. 

*'Oh,*' I said, "You are not working today?" 

"No," he replied, "I have decided to change my position. 

I am going to get a position in a munitions plant in New Jersey." 

"Whereabouts?" I asked. "Do you know anything about 
the manufacture of munitions? Did you ever work in a plant 
before?" 

He answered me in the negative and told me that he was 
going to receive the position as foreman because he had the 
requisite influence. When I queried as to where he was going 
to be stationed he told me that he had the choice of two places 
and was going to pick the most favorable one for his purposes. 

He assured me that there was nothing for me to worry about 
as to paying the rent and that on the fifteenth of each month 
I would have a cheque, paying in full for the obligations he 
had assumed. He assured me further that his friend was 
trustworthy and that he would probably occupy the rooms 
more than he did. 

Possibly this might have sounded plausible enough, but I 
recognized that these two were foreigners and every moment I 
was becoming more £tnd more suspicious. I could not under- 
stand why a $60-a-month clerk should be hobnobbing with a 

92 



man who was apparently in good circumstances. Many a 
night I talked with my wife about the strangely assorted pair, 
but there was nothing that we could find in their actions that 
might convict them. They seemed to be honest, but intuitively 
I could feel that there was an under-current of treachery and 
deceit. 

I was rapidly becoming an American. The atmosphere of 
the Reef Road in the Transvaal and that of Broadway differ 
vastly. I had become inoculated with the spirit of the "Great 
White Way" and through acquaintances that I had made I 
learned to love that fateful old game of trying to pick the 
winners at Belmont Park, Jamaica, Elmpire City or wherever 
the bangtails were running. It became an obsession with me, 
but Dame Fate was still on my track and the ones I figured 
best always seemed to run last. In this way I lost a lot of 
money. My wife learned of my doings and the first breach 
in our married life came. We quarreled a lot and finally she 
was taken down with nervous prostration. She was in bed 
about a week» worrying not only of the financial ditch that 
the horses were digging for me, but also about the conduct of 
the houses. 

One Sunday morning she asked me to go and inspect things. 
I went downstairs and as I passed the apartment which Van 
Earp had leased I noticed that the door was wide open. I 
looked in and there I saw his friend, the rooming clerk, in a 
dressing gown, surrounded by luggage that had been packed up 
as if for a quick exit. 

He called me in and was in a very agitated state of mind. 

He was shaking all over and nervous as could be. 
"What's the trouble?" I asked. 

"Haven't you heard the news," he replied. "My friend. 
Van Earp, is missing. He was not home last night. Don't 
you know that the big Gillespie munitions plant, where he 
was a foreman, was blown to atoms?" 

^3 



"Yes, I have heard that," I countered. "But what has 
that got to do with the case? Van Earp may turn up yet. I 
can see no reason why you should be so worried that you 
should want to give up the quarters on which he has a lease 
for months yet." 

I asked him to wait while I conferred with my wife. It 
was then about eleven o'clock in the morning and he said that 
he would be agreeable to remain until two in the afternoon. 
All through the district newsboys were shouting out the story 
of the disaster which had co&t the Allies millions in money and 
untold machinery in the furtherance of the fight for victory. 

I called up the Military Intelligence department over the 
private number that Inspector Brady had given me months 
before, but I received no answer. Then I recalled that the 
"Evening Telegram," which was nearby, had a list of numbers 
printed daily, which everyone was urged to paste in his hat in 
case of emergency. Just as it happened that day the numbers 
were left out. 

On my way out I encountered a policeman. I requested 
him to watch my house and if a short, thick-set man with two 
grips should come out, to detain him until I came back. I 
was sure the Austrian would try to elude me. 

I rushed over to the office of the "New York Herald" and 
explained my errand to the attendant in charge. I told him 
that I had under suspicion a man whom I thought had some con- 
nection with the blowing up of the Gillespie plant. He reported 
to one of the editors and soon I was telling him the story. I 
asked him to get me in touch with the correct authorities to fur- 
nish me with an investigator of some one under suspicion as 
having had a hand in the Gillespie disaster. This was done in 
a jiffy. 

Then I rushed back to the house. As I passed the French 
Theatre I saw the friendly policeman holding up the Austrian, 
the two of them in a heated argument. The policeman was 

94 



asking him for his credentials. As I came into sight the Aus- 
trian called out, "Mr. Meyers, won't you come here and vouch 
for me that I am all right?" 

"I should say not," I cuiswered, "I have a pretty good idea 
of who you are and if you will return to your quarters it will 
not be long before you can explain to the proper authorities." 

"Very well," he exclaimed, "if that's the way you feel 
about it I shall be only too glad to go back with you." 

We started back and on the way I met Tom Martin, one 
of my teneints, who was the manager of the Columbus Club, 
which had quarters on the ground floor of the house. I knew 
him to be a true-blue American. I asked him if he would come 
up to the apartment of Van Earp. I told him that he was 
suspected to have some connection with the blowing up of the 
Gillespie plant and that I wanted him to keep a watch on his 
room-mate. 

"Above all," I cautioned him, "don't let this man destroy 
any papers." He was keen to volunteer and went up to keep a 
watch on him while I waited downstairs for the coming of a 
man from the Intelligence Department. 

Presently a dapper looking chap came up and asked me if 
I was Edward Meyers. I thought he might have been the 
detective and told him I was. I asked him who he was and 
he announced that he was a reporter from the "New York 
Herald" and had been assigned to "cover" the case, pending 
the arrival of the man from the Intelligence Bureau. 

I asked him if he thought I had done right and he said, "If 

there were only more who used their wits fast enough, we 

might snare a lot more who have been plotting against our 
country and the rest of the Allies." 

I took him up to Van Earp's apartment and he waited there 
with Martin for the arrival of the detective. He assured me 
that the "Herald" had been in communication with the Intel- 

95 



ligence Department and that he would not have to wait long 
until there would be some one on hand to make an investigation. 

In less than half an hour an operative from the Department 
of Justice arrived and started to query the Austrian and exam- 
ine (the quarters which he was so ready to vacate. A minute 
investigation of all the personal belongings of Van Earp and 
his partner was made. 

The inspection was taking a long time. It was not com- 
pleted until three o'clock in the afternoon. It was a strange 
coincidence that for the first time since Van Earp and his friend 
had been lodging at my house that they were sought by visitors 
in the daytime. Three times during the course of the investiga- 
tion the bell rang and the visitors requested to see Mr. Van 
Earp. Martin had gone, but in the room with the Austrian 
always the "Herald" reporter and the detective sat. They 
watched every move of his closely. 

Each solicitous visitor who was anxious to learn of the where- 
abouts of Van Earp was received by the detective who took 
him into an adjoining room and queried him about his own 
status and learned his address. He was seeking any possible 
ramifications in the plot that we now all were sure Van Earp 
had a big hand in. 

Everything appeared satisfactory to the Department of 
Justice man. The operative called me aside and he said that 
the Austrian's credentials were without a flaw and that he 
could do nothing but let him go. He admitted that Van Earp 
was the man to be sought and that he would have to get on his 
trail. The Austrian was then permitted to depart after giving his 
future address. This might have been fictitious, but the secret 
service operator assured me that he would be well watched in 
all his travels henceforth. 

The reporter and the secret service man left the house and 
the Austrian remained in his room. An hour or so later the 
reporter came back and asked the foreigner if he could furnish 
him with a picture of Van Earp. He readily assented with a 

96 



request that the photographs be returned to him as soon as 
copies were made of them. About five o'clock in the after- 
noon, while returning from a walk, I met the reporter coming 
out of the house and he told me that the Austrian had informed 
him that Van Earp was alright and that he expected friends to 
come to the house that night to remove his luggage. 

This information startled me and I decided that my course 
would be to get into immediate communication with the Mili- 
tary Intelligence Department. I got the office of Major Potter 
on the wire through the aid of the policeman on the beat and 
explained what I had learned, and it was not long before an- 
other detective arrived to place the Austrian under strict obser- 
vation and to question him as to his knowledge of Van Earp's 
whereabouts. 

The Austrian denied that he had made such an admission to 
the reporter and that he did not know where Van Earp was. 
He insisted that there must have been a misunderstanding. Both 
the detective and I were still suspicious and the secret service 
man gave him orders to remain in his quarters that night. 

The following morning the "Herald" carried a sensational 
story of how the foreman of the Gillespie plant, was missing 
and related the incidents of the discovery of his lodgings near 
Herald Square. At nine o'clock a stranger came up to me as 1 
was standing at the door of the house and he asked me if I 
could direct him to Mr. Van Earp's apartments. I asked 
him who he was. 

"What's that to you?" he replied. 

"It's a whole lot," I retorted, "I want to know what your 
name and address are before you can go upstairs." 

I explained to him that I was the landlord of the house and 
that no one could go up to Van Earp's quarters unless he had 
particular business. I told him that I had orders to that effect. 

He asked me from whom and I answered that they were 
from the Military InteUigence Bureau. I added that Van 

97 



Earp*s room-mate was in the house, but that the Gillespie fore- 
man had not yet shown up. With this sally of words he pro- 
duced his credentials from the Military Intelligence Depart- 
ment and I allowed him to proceed to the Austrian's room. 

The secret service man ordered the suspyect to dress imme- 
diately and he escorted him off to headquarters for further 
interrogation to supplement what had taken place the night 
before. In a few minutes they were on their way. I had 
volunteered to watch Van Earp's apartment in the absence of 
the pair and to take the names and addresses of any who 
might be seeking the German or his partner. In a couple of 
hours the Austrian returned in the company of another detective 
who assured me that there was nothing against the foreigner 
as far as could be proved, and that he was at liberty to go 
where he pleased when he wished to. The Austrian was 
furious and he lost no time in getting clear of the place. He 
packed up his belongings in a few minutes, called a taxicab 
and was off. 

I was glad to be free of this source of trouble. Soon, how- 
ever, another secret service man came up to the house and 
asked me if I would mind going down to Major Potter's office 
at Police Headquarters. I readily assented. 

All through this commotion, trouble and hours of worry my 
wife was lying helpless in bed. I went to her and told her 
what had been asked of me. She told me that she felt that 
she could be alone for an hour or so, wihich I Stated was all 
the time that I expected to be gone. 

So I went down to Major Potter's office at Police Head- 
quarters and was taken into his private quarters where he was 
seated with a lieutenant who was his aide. The first question 
he asked was: 

"How much money did you get for that story that was 
printed in the 'Herald' this morning?" 

"I beg your pardon, sir," I answered, **I received nothing 
98 



for it. I can explain to you how that happened to be pubHshed. 
I simply did what any loyal American or ally would do." 

Before I could go into very lengthy details of how the story 
had leaked out he interrupted me by asking me where I was 
born. 

"Ask me where I came from," I repHed, "I'll tell you that. 
I am under orders not to disclose the place of my birth. That 
is a military secret." 

He was insistent, however, and finally I said that if he 
would have the civilian who was in the room leave, I would 
obey what I considered his command through respect for the 
uniform of a major of the United States Army which he wore. 

He assured me that the man in civilian clothes was one of 
his confidential attaches and that it would be perfectly proper 
for me to make any statement in his presence. 

"If that's so," I declared, "all right." 

"I was born in Germany, at Koenigsberg, Prussia." 

He leaned back in his chair, puffed meditatively a moment 
at a cigarette and said: 

"Ah, that is quite an interesting little item. Are you 
registered as an enemy alien?" 

"No," I replied, and immediately he gave a curt order to 
one of his subordinates to take me and have me registered. I 
asked him if he would not give me a few moments to explain 
my status. He granted this request and then I detailed to him 
my story of life in the German army, in the secret service of 
the Kaiser, my escape to England and from there to America 
under the protection of the British War Office. 

His attitude immediately changed. He was all courtesy 
toward me then and taking out his cigarette case he offered me 
a smoke. He shook hands with me and told me that he was 
sorry that I had been put to any annoyance, but if my story 

99 



were true, things would come out all right. He added that 
he did not exactly know what would be the disposition of my 
case, but he thought that I would probably have to obey the 
law like any one else of enemy nativity and would have to be 
registered. He asked me if he could communicate with me 
by telephone and I gave him my private number and assured 
him that he could get in touch with me at any time. He 
thanked me and told me that he would let me know how mat- 
ters stood with me in a day or so. 



100 



XII. 



Interned at Fort Oglethorpe for Investigation, 
but Freed by a Just Government 

I TOLD my wife of the difficulties that were still besieging 
me. She was helpless in bed and all this news did not 
help to improve her condition. She now had an added 
load of worry to burden her mind. The second day after my 
interview with Major Potter I received word from him to 
report at Police Headquarters for further questioning at half 
past eleven in the morning. I hastened to meet him after bid- 
ding my sick wife farewell, and in less than half an hour I 
was in his presence. 

Little did I think that it would be nearly six months before 
I would be home again. 

Major Potter was a fine t5rpe of American soldier. Per- 
sonally he was of a sympathetic nature emd apparently willing 
to do all he could for me. Sympathy and duty, however, 
could not mix. He was willing enough to believe my story, 
but I had nothing to corroborate it. Captain Guy Gaunt was 
the only one in the United States in authority who could vouch 
for me emd as my star of ill-luck was still pursuing me, it just 
happened that he had been called to sea duty and I could not 
get in touch with him. 

Instead of sending me with a subordinate Major Potter 
escorted me personally to the office of the Enemy Alien Bureau, 
where he arranged for an interview with Hon. Rufus W. 
Sprague, Jr., the chief of the bureau and special assistant to 
the Attorney-General at Washington for this district. One 
look at Mr. Sprague convinced me that he was a real, big- 

101 



hearted, just man, and his conversation and treatment of me 
strengthened this impression. 

I was allowed to smoke and Mr. Sprague tried to make me 
feel at ease. I could not help but make a mental contrast of 
what would happen to a person in a similar predicament in the 
land of autocracy. I realized more fully than ever that I was 
in a land of equality and I was sure that justice would be done 
me, although I feared it might take some time before my case 
would be cleared up. 

Mr. Sprague called in a confidential stenographer and for 
two hours I gave the details of what had led up to my coming 
to America. As soon as this was finished he got in touch with 
the British consulate. 

Then he announced to me that he was sorry to be obliged to 
tell me that the British Office had no information in regard 
to my standing and that there was no trace of any communica- 
tion between me and Captain Gaunt. 

"The only thing for me to do,'* he said, "is to detain you." 

I was crestfallen, but I agreed that there was no other 
course. I explained to him how my wife was confined to her 
bed in a helpless state and asked him if he could not grant 
me permission to say good-bye to her. 

"Fm awfully sorry," he answered, "but the routine of the 
military law demands that you must go to an internment camp 
until your case can be thoroughly investigated." 

He assured me that my wife would be well taken care of 
during my enforced absence, and immediately he called on 
the telephone for a nurse to whom he gave instructions to go 
to my home and break the news to my wife gently as possible 
and to do all she could to make her comfortable. Just 
imagine a thing like this happening in Germany! This little 
act of kindness and consideration made me feel happy as could 
be under the circumstances. 

102 



A marshal was called and I was placed in his custody. It 
had been a hard day for me and several hours had been 
spent in Mr. Sprague's office. I said that I was hungry and 
I was given special permission to go to any restaurant I pleased 
in company with the officer to satisfy my craving for food. 

I asked Mr. Sprague if I might communicate with my wife 
during my period of detention. He assured me that I could 
write to her as often as I liked, and that as soon as she was 
feeling well enough he would certainly grant her permission to 
visit me. He bade me farewell, cordially, and I left with my 
custodian. The two of us had a hearty meal and then we 
started off for Newark, where I was to be detained. That night 
I wrote to my wife, telling her where I was and daily for two 
weeks we corresponded. 

The second day that I was in the detention camp I was 
cheered up by receiving a letter from my wife, telling me that 
the nurse who had been sent to her was doing everything pos- 
sible to comfort and aid her and that she was already feeHng 
stronger and better. 

After what I had been through in Germany I could hardly 
believe my senses at what was happening to me, a man under 
suspicion. At the end of a fortnight my wife communicated 
with Mr, Sprague and said that she would like to visit me 
or have me visit her, but that she was not in condition to take 
a trip as far as Newark. 

Once more the big heart of this man was in evidence for he 
granted special permission for me to come over to his office, 
where I would be allowed to meet my wife. At the appointed 
time I came there and for an hour we were allowed to talk 
with each other. We were treated very kindly and permitted 
to go to luncheon together in the company of my custodian. 
We had several meetings of this sort as the weeks passed by. 

After six weeks I was transferred to Ellis Island, where 
there was a large number awaiting internment. It was grim 

103 



for me, but I still had enough sense of humor to smile inwardly 
when one of the first persons I met was the Austrian who had 
been my tenant and who had been mixed up with Van Earp, 
and who was really the cause of all my present trouble. 

I wrote immediately to my wife and told her that it was all 
like a nice vacation, for the food was of the best, the air of 
Elhs Island healthy, and the only fly in the ointment outside 
of the fact that I could not be home was that I was obliged to 
come in contact with that Austrian every day. 

Of course all letters sent out from the camp were censored 
and the officer in charge communicated with Mr. Sprague, 
telling him of the peculiar situation. Immediately a reply 
was received that some mistake must have been made in having 
the two of us together and I was ordered to be transferred to 
the Raymond Street Civil Side in Brooklyn, where a whole 
floor was reserved for enemy aliens. Here again I found 
that the food was of the best, and I was afforded plenty of 
opportunity for exercise. My wife was given permission from 
Mr. Sprague to visit me at any time she cared to come. 

I sojourned there three weeks when Saturday before Christ- 
mas I was told that a consignment of prisoners of war were 
to leave for Fort Oglethorpe, Ga., the following Monday. I 
was called on the telephone from Mr. Sprague's office, asking 
me if I should like to meet my wife before I left. They had 
granted her special permission and within an hour she was at 
my side, bidding me a tearful farewell. 

She was game. She was standing by her guns. She be- 
lieved in me and her last words to me were ones of assurance 
that it would not be long before I would be back home with 
her, to forget all that had happened in the past. I felt a bit 
cheery. Our little differences of the past faded into the back- 
ground of other days. As we embraced for the last time I 
felt that a new era was dawning on me. I was confident 
that a new soul was being born within me. I knew I was 
going to be forevermore a loyal son of democracy. 

104 



A group of us were sent over to New York, where we were 
first examined at the enemy alien bureau and then put aboard 
a train under military guard, bound for Fort Oglethorpe. We 
arrived there on Christmas Eve. There was a close inspection 
of the prisoners as we detrained and when we entered the camp 
our predecessors cheered us. They seemed to be a happy, well- 
treated collection. What a difference there would have been in 
a German internment camp! Arrangements had been made 
for refreshments for us and we were soon assigned to our 
quarters. 

We woke up on Christmas morning listening to the strains 
of a German military band that had been famous throughout 
China. The musicians had come from Tsing Tau on their way 
to Germany, when America declared war and were interned 
at Oglethorpe. Dr. Karl Muck, formerly conductor of the 
Boston Symphony Orchestra, was leader in the concert during 
the course of the day. 

Compared to what I had seen in Friederichsfeld, in Ger- 
many, this place was heaven. Here was what the prisoners 
had for their Christmas breakfast: 

Fresh Fruit Boiled Ham Boiled Eggs 

Milk Rice Raisin Bread 

Butter, Syrup and Coffee 

Dinner was even better, with roast turkey, cranberry sauce 
and all the trimmings of a real Yuletide Yankee home banquet. 
Supper was even as big a surprise. 

As soon as breakfast was over I made a tour of exploration 
and my eyes popped as I saw in this camp a complete city. 
There were shops of all sorts. At one huge store you could 
purchase almost anything. There were barber shops, tailor 
shops and plenty of places where light refreshments might be 
purchased. Theatres, cinema houses, and concert halls were 
on the premises and there was no lack of amusement. In the 

105 



open there were all sorts of athletic fields where the prisoners 
might indulge in their favorite sports. 

Time passed by swiftly enough. There was plenty of diver- 
sion. My trouble-star was still in the ascendency for it was 
not long before I got into an argument over the sinking of the 
"Lusitania." I maintained that Germany was unjustified in 
sinking the ship without allowing the passengers to disembark. 
I was jeered at by my fellow-prisoners who had learned that I 
was a deserter from the German army and they called me a 
traitor to the Fatherland and they began to make hfe miserable 
for me. 

I felt that they had it in for me and I was prepared. One 
night while I was lying in my barracks, several missiles were 
cast in my direction. I had close beside me my boot, and at 
the first shot I cast it up at the electric bulb, shattering it and 
placing the quarters in darkness. I felt that I would be safer 
thus. 

I reported the occurrence to the officer in charge and he 
had me transferrecj to another portion of the camp where I 
would be under special protection. 

During my three months' stay at Oglethorpe I learned a lot 
about certain prisoners who were there, through talks that I had 
with them. There were many prominent men among them, 
and I discovered that many of them who wished to remain in 
this country were violently against the American Government, 
and in their hearts p>otential trouble-makers. Nearly all of 
them claimed that they had been interned without just cause, 
but I could find none of them who by their own admissions 
had not committed some overt act in violation of the code of 
war. I made no friends among them and was heartily glad 
when I saw that in the company which left Oglethorpe for the 
North there were none of these disturbers present. 

On April 4, 1918, the anniversary of our marriage, another 
odd coincidence in my life, I was again to breathe the air of 

106 



freedom. My heart was gay as the train pulled out for the 
North. There were a half a dozen others who had been 
set free, but I did not mingle with them. 

I rejoiced in the feeling that forever I was free from the 
taint of autocracy. Henceforth I was going into a new life; 
into the land of hope; the land of opportunity; to my wife 
once more and into the glorious environment of democracy. 

The star of ill-luck had set at last, I was sure. 



# 



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LB D '19 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper pre 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxid( 
Treatment Date: .^ 

Preservation lechnoli 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PBESERV 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township. PA 16( 
t72A\ 779-2111 



